


A Doggone Catastrophe

by janonny



Series: Shapeshifters: The Extra Fluffy Edition [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Animal Ears, Animal Traits, Avengers Tower, Cat Tony Stark, Comedy, Dog Steve Rogers, Fluff, Humor, Indecent amounts of fluff, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-10-18 04:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17573822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janonny/pseuds/janonny
Summary: According to all the stereotypes, feathers and fur will fly when several different shifters have to work and live together. But the truth was that the animal instincts were easy to navigate. For Steve and Tony, dealing with their very human feelings was the hard part.-People liked to stereotype dogs and cats as hating each other’s scents, but Steve had never found any truth in that. Cats smelled like cats. Except for Tony. Tony smelled sweet, like the heat of a kitchen that had baking bread, like every delicious spice that warmed the tongue. His scent was best when mixed in with coffee, with oil and metal, when tinged with happiness.





	1. Tony

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [A Doggone Catastrophe 猫狗大战](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19855609) by [Gravityxxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gravityxxx/pseuds/Gravityxxx)



> This is set in a world where everyone is some form of animal shapeshifter due to Odin losing track of some magical artefact that ended up on Earth centuries ago. This is only vaguely alluded to in the story and it’s about all the background you need to understand this literal fluff-fest. Also, everyone lives in the Avengers tower, including Bucky whom they rescued from Hydra at some point. 
> 
> The whole story has been completed and beta-reading is halfway done. I’m posting now to force myself to stop editing over and over again while beta-reading is in progress. I’ll be posting once a week on Sunday/Monday. 
> 
> Thank you so much to [astrofrogged](http://astrofrogged.tumblr.com/) who continues to take time out of her schedule to beta read all the strange things I lob in her direction. <3

“Meow. Meow. Meow meow meow.”

“Please stop.”

“Miaaaaaaooowwww.”

“Don’t you have any self-respect, Tony?”

“Miaaoww.”

“Okay, fine. Fine! I’ll go.”

Clint dug a spoon into his ice cream and said, “I thought you would have years of built up immunity against such tactics by now. All that took was five minutes of meowing.”

Tony tugged Rhodey by the arm towards the elevator. “It’s because he wants to go as well. He just needed an excuse to give in.”

“I just didn’t want you to escalate,” Rhodey corrected.

“Pshaww, as if as you aren’t used to dealing with my escalations,” Tony said with an airy handwave, before rubbing his wrist against the frame of the elevator door, as if the common area wasn’t saturated enough with his scent.

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “That is not a thing to be proud of.”

“I’m proud of anything involving you, Featherfluff,” Tony said, dragging Rhodey into the elevator and giving Clint a jaunty wave.

They could hear Clint muttering as the elevator doors closed. “Cats…why are they so strange?”

The car trip was mostly spent with Rhodey grumbling and Tony turning up the music so he could pretend that he couldn’t hear all the grumbling. By the time they arrived at their destination, _Cold Hearted Man_ by AC/DC was blaring from the car windows and Rhodey was tapping a finger along to the music but still pretending to be grumpy for form’s sake. He couldn’t fool Tony; after so many years of friendship, they both knew all of each other’s  little tics. Tony slung an arm around Rhodey’s shoulders, making sure to rub a wrist against Rhodey’s back as they walked into the Javits Center.

“Don’t be so mad, you know you’ll end up enjoying yourself. You love car shows,” Tony said, dropping his arm after Rhodey shot him a look at the scent-marking. 

They both stopped for a moment at the entrance, looking around the wide, high-ceilinged  space filled from end-to-end with beautiful cars on display and people of all ages walking the floor. There were large LED signs of the car brands fighting for the attention of the visitors and all manner of interactive displays for family fun, including virtual reality set-ups and little cars for kids to drive round a mini race track. The well-dressed spokespeople and attractive models hovered around their vehicles, promoting their cars to the visitors and journalists. People were peering into the engines of the cars that had their hoods popped up, many examining the cars from the inside, and countless more were taking selfies with everything.

Tony loved it. There were plenty of private car shows for the rich and famous, exclusive events where people with something to prove paraded around outrageous cars and drank champagne as they tried to outdo each other in the art of spending money. But Tony hated those events, always felt like the Very Important People were as much on show as the cars. In a messy crowd like this, in the middle of New York’s International Auto Show, he felt like he could be just one more person among the thousands. Sure, he would be recognized, he might even be asked for a photo and an autograph, but in a place like this, the people were going to walk by you more often than not. They were here for the cars, not the Tony Stark show. 

Even Rhodey’s annoyed front was thawing at the sight of all the shiny automobiles on display and he huffed out in delayed reply to Tony’s statement, “I do like car shows. But I don’t like going to car shows with _you_.”

Tony patted the feathers on Rhodey’s wrists back down, trying to soothe him. “I don’t know why you would say such a hurtful thing,” Tony said, not sounding the least bit hurt. “I’m the funnest at car shows.”

“Only if you consider watching you get into arguments with the sales people for upselling the car specs or not admitting flaws in their designs fun. And you’ll modify the insides of any car you buy to the point where I’ll find myself sitting in what I think is a normal car only for you to drive into a lake to demonstrate its new submarine function, without warning me.”

By the end of that complaint, Rhodey was shooting Tony a sideways look, the small brown plumage around his neck flared out in memory at that surprise Tony had sprung on him. A rabbit shifter dodged out of their way, nose twitching like crazy. Everyone bore characteristics of their animal form in different ways and Rhodey’s was only visible in the feathers around his neck and wrists, which were looking distinctly ruffled. Tony sighed and reached up towards the feathers on Rhodey’s neck only to have his hand batted away.

“You’re scaring the hoppitys, Gummybird,” Tony said mildly, steering them through the throngs of people, eyes seeking out the cars that would interest them both.

Rhodey rolled his eyes, settling his feathers down as much as he could. “Remember that hoppity that kicked you in the nuts at M.I.T.?”

Tony winced. “Yeah, I remember, that’s why I don’t want you to scare them. Those bastards can really pack a kick when they’re twitchy.”

“Not as hard a goat,” Rhodey pointed out with fond reminiscence, turning his head to admire a silver Chevrolet Corvette GS.

“Must you bring that up?” Tony grumbled. “Goat shifters are right up there with geese as the prime winning argument of how Domestics can be equal to Wilders when it comes to danger and unpredictability. People always think Bruce got dangerous after he became the Hulk, but he’s a _goat shifter_. They don’t get that he’s always been dangerous and angry.”

Tony knew he was stereotyping, even if he was mostly joking. He was too aware that the line between Domestics and Wilders was a blurry one, with a lot of gray areas. But there were people who really believed that you could judge a person’s character based on whether that person had a domesticated animal shift or a wild animal shift, for whatever arbitrary measurement of domestication and wildness. People who thought that way had never met the likes of Bruce Banner, considered to be a Domestic what with his goat shift, and also someone who exemplified anger management issues.

“It’s only the backward assholes who think that,” Rhodey said, bumping shoulders with Tony in camaraderie, one of the few people who understood how personal this could be for Tony. But Tony didn’t want to dwell on that today. It looked like Rhodey had finally let go of his earlier mild annoyance, which was good because now they could get some fun started.

Tony shrugged. “True, too bad there are still so many of them in this world.” He paused, looking for a subject change and perking up when his eyes landed on a nearby display. “Oh, look they have the Koenigsegg Agera RS here. Not bad, let’s test out the seats. I want to see how the hardtop is detached.”

The matte black Koenigsegg was low to the ground, sleek but large, like a muscular panther. It deserved a nice and slow inspection, although Tony tried to give off vibes of disinterest as he admired the car’s elegant lines. The salesman, George Something-Or-Other, was well familiar with them from previous car shows and mostly stayed out of their way while Tony prowled around the car and Rhodey messed around with all the buttons inside the car like he was prepping a plane for take-off. They were just getting out of the car after trying out the seats when a familiar scent drifted over to them.

“Tony, hey.”

He looked up and met the bright gaze of Steve Rogers.

Tony almost pitched face first out of the car. He recovered quickly with a couple stumbled steps, before straightening, smoothing down his jacket like nothing had happened.

“Hey, Steve. I didn’t know you were coming to the car show,” Tony said with as much casualness as he could muster.

From beside Steve, Sam said, “Yeah, we totally didn’t know you were here either.”

Tony shot him a look at the strange tone. “Okay?”

Steve interjected rapidly, “Yeah, I didn’t know you would be here. It’s a real surprise. That’s a nice car, do you like it?”

“It’s okay,” Tony said with a shrug, not looking at the car.

Steve smiled. “That means you do.”

Damn, Steve read him too easily these days.

Tony tried to play it off anyway. “It’s too black, more Batman than Iron Man, so I’ll have to think about it. What about you, do you have your eye on anything? I thought you were more a motorbike kind of guy.”

“Like you aren’t a fan of Batman,” Rhodey muttered, but Tony feigned selective deafness.

Steve didn’t push any further, but his pale gold tail wagged once with amusement as he said, “Yeah, you know I am. I’m just curious about how the fancier newfangled cars look nowadays.”

“Nuh uh, your ‘golly gee whiz shucks I’m just a wide-eyed innocent puppy from Brooklyn’ act is not fooling me anymore,” Tony said, waving a finger at him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever said golly gee whiz shucks before,” Steve said with a bark of bright laughter.

“It was always implied,” Tony said with a sniff.

The sniff brought through a clear scent of Steve and Sam. And the scent of Sam on Steve. It wasn’t strong, wasn’t any kind of claim, but it was the scent of people who spent a lot of time together. Tony’s dark gold ears twitched, almost flattened, until he forced them still. But he couldn’t resist reaching out, too deliberately he knew but he couldn’t stop, and rubbing an open palm over Steve’s shoulder, dragging it down his chest and then patting him twice as if that would make it seem more casual.

“So, uh, let’s go for a walkaround, shall we?” Tony said, not caring that it was a non-sequitur.

Tony started walking off and Steve quickly stepped forward to keep up, pale gold ears pricked forward and tail whipping side-to-side so fast it was like he was trying to achieve lift-off butt-first. It was unusual for Steve to be so openly cheerful in public but it was a good look on him. Maybe he really was looking forward to admiring shiny new cars today. Tony hid his smile at the unexpected pleasant company, brushing shoulders with Steve as they kept apace.

“So you guys totally didn’t know we were here, huh?” Rhodey asked Sam from behind them.

“It was a complete surprise,” Sam said in a flat tone. “No one could have possibly told us you were here.”

It was a weird exchange, but Tony was too focussed on brushing up against Steve occasionally with his shoulder while pretending like he wasn’t doing it on purpose. Hah, take that, Sam, with his bird scents.

They ended up wandering the car show, not really settling on anything specific, but coming back a couple times to the Koenigsegg. Steve showed mild interest in how fast some of the cars could go because he was a bit of a speed maniac on the streets, but otherwise, seemed happy just chatting with Tony. Behind them, Sam and Rhodey fell back to talking about _Scandal_ which they both watched religiously.

Pretending to admire a gleaming red Aston Martin Valkyrie, Tony watched as Steve feigned interest in the salesman who was obviously a little awestruck that he was talking to Captain America. The salesman rambled on as the feathers on his neck and wrists were flaring up and down, instinctively flashing colorful plumage. The blue-green iridescent feathers were very eye-catching in the sunlight and Tony had to force his tail to stay still so as not to reveal his irritation at the blatant peacocking directed at Steve. _Mine_ , his instincts hissed, but he ignored it in favor of staring sightlessly under the hood of the Valkyrie. This prominent display of interest from the general public was nothing new and he should be used to it by now. None of them had bothered to come in disguise and they had been attracting a few curious looks and some not-so-subtle photography for the last hour. The flirting always came soon after that and he was just going to have to suck it up.

Instead of throwing a literal hissy fit, Tony decided to partake in one of his favorite hobbies; observing Steve while pretending not to be observing Steve. It was always interesting to Tony that Steve seemed so much more controlled and reserved in public, which was unusual for dog shifters. His soft gold ears were in an alert position, and his tail was held high with confidence, but he didn’t wag much when interacting and he kept his smiles mostly small and polite. But when he turned to Tony, like right now, that familiar glimmer of humor was still present in those blue eyes. Oh shit, wait, that was usually a bad sign—

“Gosh, I’m not sure I really understand what all that jargon mean,” Steve said, his ears drooping a little like it was all too confusing for him, like he didn’t spend hours in the garage tinkering under the hood of the 1967 Camaro Tony had gotten for him to restore. “But I’m sure my friend Tony here would be interested to know _all_ the details.”

“Oh, oh, Mister Stark, oh, of course,” the salesman started, eyes lit up when he turned his gaze on Tony, who he hadn’t really registered while he was in his earlier Captain America haze.

Tony narrowed his eyes at Steve from behind his blue shades as he became the new target for the salesman, who was now just realizing that he had a golden opportunity to sell potentially more than one Aston Martin to one of the richest men in the world. 

By the time Tony had deftly extracted himself from that sales pitch, they had lost Sam and Rhodey who probably would enjoy the car show better without Tony offering critique on the muscle cars they liked.

“Lunch?” Steve asked, the picture of innocence.

Tony swished his tail slowly a few times, feigning annoyance. “I know what you did there.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“ _‘Captain America throws Iron Man under the bus’_ should be tomorrow’s headlines,” Tony said, marking air quotes in the air with his fingers as he weaved through the throngs of people.

“They don’t call me the man with the plan for nothing,” Steve said solemnly.

That surprised a chuff of laughter out of Tony who shook his head. “Shameless. Completely shameless. What would your fans say?”

Steve tilted his head, thinking about it, before saying, “My real friends would understand going to Iron Man for an assist.”

Flattery would absolutely get Steve anywhere, because Tony wanted to purr at those words. He had to tamp down on an exuberant grin. Instead, in a rare show of restraint, he only smiled and said, “For that, you’re going to let me treat you to lunch. It’ll be something very expensive, unrecognizable, and served in tiny portions.”

“That’s harsh, Tin Man,” Steve said with a sigh.

But Tony noticed that Steve’s tail was now wagging briskly again, a rare sight in public but becoming more commonplace in recent days. Tony tucked his fangs behind his lips as he smiled in delight. “You’ll eat up every overpriced morsel and love every minute of it.”

He wrapped a hand around Steve’s elbow, rubbing his wrist surreptitiously against Steve in the process, and tugged him along. His own tail was swaying with excitement, enjoying the idea of spending the rest of the day out here with Steve.

# # # # # #

They had to split up again when they left the car show because Tony’s car was a two-seater — an Alfa Romeo 4C Coupe which he didn’t really like and only drove it to hear Rhodey complain about its tiny interior — so he couldn’t give Steve and Sam a ride back. Steve had only shrugged and said they had their own transport back anyway. When Tony and Rhodey walked through the door, Rhodey still had his feathers ruffled over an argument he and Sam had been having about some new General in the military and his suitability in that position. Tony had made all the right sounds in all the right places, but he was mostly thinking about how Steve had looked over lunch when a kid had come up to him for an autograph. There was that look of surprised pleasure, followed by adorable concentration as he had drawn a little picture of the boy with a Captain America shield on a napkin before signing it. The scene had been too precious for words.

When they walked into the common area with Rhodey still griping about Sam’s wrong opinions, the place was empty except for Natasha lounging on the bench by the floor-to-ceiling windows, soaking up the sun. She looked up lazily.

“Argument with Sam?” she surmised from the little she heard.

Rhodey and Sam got along really well, bonding over their shared raptor shifts and ability to go flying on a whim. But sometimes, their differing views on the military meant that they had the occasional heated arguments. Everyone was used to it by now.

Sliding into an armchair, Rhodey muttered, “He’s just wrong as usual.”

“I’m sure he is,” Natasha teased in a tone which made it clear that she didn’t believe anything of that sort.

“You don’t even know what we’re arguing about,” Rhodey pointed out with a sideways look.

“But he is very wrong anyway,” Natasha said solemnly, crossing her legs at her ankles and looking for all the world like she was on the beach instead.

Rhodey shook his head but smiled, clearly accepting that he was being lightly mocked. “Damn right he is. He’s a bird with the wrong call sign, what does he know?” It was a common joke between Rhodey and Sam; how Sam’s call sign, named after the EXO-7 Falcon suit, should give Sam identity issues since he wasn’t a falcon shifter.

Tony hasn’t seen Natasha since yesterday so, approaching slowly to give as much forewarning as possible, Tony dragged a light hand over Natasha’s forearm as he walked by. She smiled, pushing her arm against his touch. He was heading to the shared kitchen when he heard the elevator.

The elevator doors were barely open a few inches when a goshawk dived sideways out of the lift and straight for the couch, wings twisting in ways that didn’t seem possible if one didn’t know the goshawk’s reputation. In a blur of feathers and motion, Sam landed on the couch in human form, his shift too fast for the human eye to track. Even if it had been recorded and played back on video, all that would have been visible would have been a smear of colorful shimmer before a human man took the place of a diving bird. There was never any visible transformation, just one form disappearing before another took its place regardless of size difference, and with clothing and accessories all reappearing with the human form. There had been a lot of studies in pocket dimensions in the 80’s, with limited success in replicating the results of what scientists now suspected was Asgardian magic spread across Earth centuries ago. 

Sam grinned from the couch when the door to the stairs suddenly swung open and Steve came skidding in.

In his full dog shift, Steve was a magnificent sight. He was much larger than a normal dog or wolf, with sharp angles and strong lines; his fur was a pale silky gold all over, fairer than his blonde hair in his human form. Steve liked to joke that he was a mutt, through and through, but Tony thought he looked amazing, like a golden creature not entirely from this world.

However, right at this moment, Steve in his dog form just looked ridiculous. He had launched himself full tilt from the stairs and had very nearly crashed into the side of the couch. J.A.R.V.I.S. must have opened the door for him in preparation for his dramatic entrance. Not able to slow his momentum, Steve opted instead to leap straight onto the couch, right on top of Sam.

“Hah, no use attacking me, you already lost!” Sam exclaimed, trying to push Steve off.

Steve trampled over Sam with his large paws, ignoring his howls of outrage, and then leapt off the couch on the other side. He stopped in front of Tony, mouth open in a panting grin and blue eyes bright with amusement. His tail was wagging away, his body language exuding the kind of relaxed and cheerful air that was rarely seen outside the Avengers tower.

Tony had to work hard not to smile in return, instead raising his eyebrows at Steve. “Your other form of transport was your animal shifts? Did you really race Sam back to the tower?”

Tilting his head, Steve let out a short bark in answer, looking unrepentant.

It was silly because no landed animal, no matter how quick, could beat a bird shifter in flight, especially Sam’s goshawk form in the city, with his ability to weave around any obstacle. In human form, Steve would always leave Sam in the dust, but once they put on their feathers and furs, Sam was unbeatable in a busy city. That Steve wasn’t far behind Sam was a testament to his superserum speed and stamina. He must have jumped over many things, maybe even people, to come close to keeping up.

At the thought of Steve and Sam, racing with abandon through the city in their dog and goshawk shifts respectively, Tony did feel a pang of envy that they could both so openly move around in their animal forms, when he had never shifted in front of anyone other than Pepper, Rhodey and Happy. But that envy was short-lived in the face of Steve’s open-mouthed, panting delight. No one could feel down looking at that face. Tony had to restrain himself from rubbing the top of Steve’s cocked head just to make him smile all the more in his dog form.

There was a sound like a soft puff of air and within a blink, Steve was standing there in his human form. Steve smiled, tail wagging gently.

“Almost won this time,” he said with a jaunty swish of his tail that smacked Sam — who was still on the couch — in the shoulder. Sam retaliated by grabbing his tail and pinching its tip, which Steve just ignored.  

Tony’s lips twitched and he continued his journey to the kitchen, calling out over a shoulder, “If you let me put repulsors in your boots, maybe you would stand a chance without even needing to shift.”

“Bet you I’d still win,” Sam cut in.

“Sounds like you boys had a good day out,” Natasha said from where she was on the bench.

Steve replied, “It was pretty great.” Tony could just imagine his smile and perked up ears as he said that.

“And did everyone get a new car?” she teased.

Rhodey chuckled. “We managed to distract Tony.”

Tony grumbled under his breath, slinking into the kitchen and ignoring the chatter in the living room. Steve followed him, tail wagging slowly. It took all of Tony not to keep his eyes trained on that fluffy pale gold tail, not to pounce on it for a good gnawing. That was just not respectable behavior and people didn’t expect it from a well-bred cat.

Well-bred. Hah! If only they knew.

Tony went to the coffee machine and rubbed a shoulder against it, because his scent was under Clint’s which was just unacceptable. _His_ coffee machine.

Then he went to the fridge to pull out one of the fruit and veggie drinks he blended this morning.

“You want one?” Tony asked, in a nonchalant way, because he was definitely not thinking, ‘ _Take it, my food gift, take it, take it, drink, drink, eat._ ’

“Oh, I feel like a glass of milk instead of a grass drink,” Steve said, teasing.

While Tony liked when Steve bantered with him, his tail twitched sharply in annoyance because _Steve didn’t want his food gift_ _that he made._ Tony tamped down on the urge to insist — because he was a master of his instincts, thank you very much — and shrugged.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Tony said. “I thought dogs liked eating grass once in awhile.”

“I guess marijuana tastes okay,” Steve said, which startled a chuffing laugh out of Tony.

Good mood restored, Tony handed Steve a glass of milk and sat down on a chair with his own vegetable and fruit juice. “You have not smoked marijuana, don’t lie.”

“Who said I smoked it?” Steve said, completely composed except for the way his tail was swishing against the back of his chair.

“Magic brownies? No way,” Tony said with wide eyes.

“SHIELD parties used to get wild.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, ears swivelling. “Now I regret not taking Fury up on one of his invitations.”

Steve lifted his glass of milk and took a long drink. Tony used the opportunity to study him, letting his eyes linger on Steve’s blond hair, soft and almost glowing in the sunlight. His large dog ears were folded down but pricked forward, indicating his calm but alert state of mind. Their paler gold looked almost silver in this light, and they looked so very silky, with long tufts of fur and a tender pink inside. Tony wanted to touch them, rub them from the pointy tip to where they joined Steve’s hair. He wanted to scratch behind his ears, maybe he would get a foot thump out of Steve, get a little whimper…

Tony met Steve’s gaze and realized he had been caught staring. Steve’s tail was wagging and his eyes were wrinkled with a smile that must be hidden behind his glass, so at least he wasn’t mad at Tony’s creepy staring. Tony’s gaze shifted down to his own drink and he took a sip, feigning indifference. His cheeks warmed a little bit and his tail swayed behind him with his sudden agitation, but he tried to contain any other reactions.

“So when are you getting your new car delivered?” Steve asked.

Tony had gotten the Koenigsegg after all, but he planned to have it thoroughly modified. Rhodey was going to get another surprise when he had a ride in it.

“In a day or so,” Tony said, feeling pleased at the idea that he would have that sleek car under his hands soon enough.

“You know, I’m not sure why you buy cars. You can probably make a much better car than any on sale at the car show, any time you like,” Steve pointed out.

Tony grinned, soaking in the praise. He rubbed a hand unconsciously against the surface of the dining table. “I like trying out their engines. Then I like seeing what I can do to their engines myself. And sometimes I just like how the cars look. There’s a sort of artistic talent involved in creating a car that I can’t always produce.”

“Now I know that’s not true,” Steve said with a slight furrow between his brows, his big ears going back a little.

“I’m not an artist like you, there’s only so much I can do from scratch. And I tend to go overboard,” Tony said with a small smile.

“You’re an artist too, even if you don’t realize it. Only an artist could have created Iron Man. All his lines, the way every part fits together perfectly, streamline and beautiful at the same time, only an artist could have come up with that. And all your holograms in your workshop are like ever-changing 3D art.”

Tony stared at him, eyes wide. Then he went, “Mrp.”

The little unintended squeak surprised Tony, and he did a full body twitch in embarrassment, his tail held stiff behind him in an effort to stop any further unconscious reactions. Steve’s eyes were wide as well, and then he grinned widely, ears perked up in clear amusement.

“Mrp, hey?” Steve said. “I’ll take that as agreement.”

Tony scowled, his ears going back in annoyance and embarrassment. “You shut up.”

“Are you sure you don’t mean ‘mrp mrp mrp’?”

Tony drained the rest of his drink and got up in one smooth movement. “For that, you get to wash up my glass.”

Steve saluted him. “I’ll do a good job, Sir Mrp. I know you hate when we leave the kitchen in a mess.”

Damnit, he really did hate when they left the kitchen in a mess.

“See that you do, soldier,” Tony said, trying to inject authority in his voice. From Steve’s wagging tail and smile, it didn’t work at all.

Tony stalked out of the kitchen.

If he couldn’t help but brush up against Steve’s shoulder as he left, and if Steve pushed back against Tony’s touch, then it was just because Steve was sitting too close to the door. It wasn’t Tony’s fault and it didn’t mean anything. Not at all.

And if he sniffed his arm that brushed against Steve’s shoulder later, enjoying their mixed scents, that was just out of curiosity. It was a cat thing, that was all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny little anecdote. I used the word ‘spruik’ in this chapter, and my beta reader astrofrogged went, “????” I had no idea it wasn’t an internationally used word!


	2. Tony

When Steve and Tony had first met, they didn’t get along. They rubbed each other’s fur the wrong way right from the start, and every little interaction between them was tense and left them with their hackles raised. Tony had chalked it down to the instinctive reactions of a cat shifter and a dog shifter learning how to work together, figuring out how to navigate their differences and avoid the tender spots. It wasn’t hugely surprising since Tony didn’t get along with that many people regardless of their shifted forms. Maybe it didn’t much help that Tony kept expecting the Captain America his father had lauded endlessly, the prodigal son Howard preferred to his own.

So Tony had swooped onto the scene at Stuttgart expecting Steve to be welcoming and nice, with an open smile and a wagging tail for a greeting, because Captain America was just that _good_ and _pure_ according to his dad, but instead he got a frown, a stoic and watchful stare, nary a smile in sight. What kind of dog shifter was that? Tony had dropped a few jokes which had gone down like a stepped-on tail and it had been flying fur from then on, the two of them clashing like… well, cats and dogs.

Steve had been nothing like Tony had imagined all those years growing up on the stories of Captain America. He wasn’t an endlessly positive noble dog shifter, who oozed sunshine and mindless patriotism. He didn’t snarl at criticism targeted at America, and he didn’t bound around spouting amazing and encouraging speeches. Now Tony understood that he couldn’t be all of those things, because no one man could ever live up to decades of that mythologized legend. Instead, Steve was clever and occasionally sly, with a dry humor and a smart mouth. When he had to give a pep talk, they were short and sometimes inspiring, sometimes absurd and unbending. Oh, he could be self-righteous like no other, but he always tried his hardest to live up to his own principles. He would frown, he would sometimes hold those close to him to very high standards, but he had an endless well of empathy and a limitless capacity to forgive, to give out second, third, _fourth_ chances.

And nowadays, Steve wasn’t as stoic anymore, didn’t hold all his struggles deep inside his chest. Sure, he sometimes sank into himself again, blue eyes walled off as he watched the world go by like he wasn’t a part of it, but he could be drawn back out again by his friends, even by Tony. Maybe some days, _especially_ by Tony. Steve might still be a rather stoic dog shifter in public, but after two years in the Avengers tower, things were very different now. Steve and Tony continued to butt heads occasionally, but it was mostly in good fun. Nowadays, Tony walked into the room and got to see Steve wagging his tail, blue eyes lighting up.

These days, they could spend time together without constant clashing, even though there remained electric tension of a different kind between them. Or maybe that was Tony’s wishful thinking.

When they had first met, Tony never would have thought that they would reach a point where he would be voluntarily taking cat naps in Steve’s art room. He made loud claims that it was the best place to nap because it was the sunniest room in the tower, which was all completely true since the art room was positioned to get the best light for Steve’s art sessions. What Tony didn’t mention at all was that Steve’s surprised and pleased smile every time he saw Tony sauntering into the art room was brighter than any ray of sunlight, blinding in its genuine happiness and warming Tony up better than any sunbeam could. Despite his feline nature, Tony’s constant whirring thoughts and opposing needs meant that he didn’t sleep or nap as much as he would prefer. But the warmth of Steve’s art room, along with how the room was saturated with Steve’s scent and the dull smell of paint — chemically suppressed for sensitive noses — lulled Tony to sleep easily on the long cushioned seats by the bay windows.   

Other times, when Tony was down in his workshop being a genius cat as he called it, Steve would come visit him. Ostensibly, it was to discuss training, team dynamics and battle strategy, but most of the time, they would end up shooting the shit; Tony going into tangents about scientific breakthroughs and what new memes J.A.R.V.I.S. had created on the Internet, Steve talking about the current political climate or the little comics he drew of the Avengers fighting everyday appliances like they were supervillains. The latest was Clint versus the toaster, which was somehow adorable yet hilarious. Tony would be working on some brilliant tech breakthrough — as he always did — while Steve would be sketching or tossing a ball with DUM-E, and they would talk about Tony’s time in MIT or Steve’s time in art school, the kind of mischief they used to get up to.

Then, there were the times when there was no talking involved, like right now. Tony had straightened up from where he had been bent over some finicky work that he couldn’t leave to his fabrication units, and realized that they had been silent for the last ten minutes. He turned around to find Steve on his couch, head tilted back, deeply asleep. Huh. Tony had never seen Steve sleep in the open like that before. Steve wasn’t often relaxed enough to just take naps around the place.

Padding over on light bare feet, Tony stood to the side of the couch, eyes tracing over Steve’s peaceful expression. His mouth was slightly open, soft snores emerging from his parted pink lips. And there was the faintest hint of drool starting at the corner of his mouth. The worst part was that Tony found even that adorable. Drooling puppy, aww. Tony wanted to sniff at Steve’s open mouth, smell his breath and know what he had tasted lately. He wanted to trace that straight nose, measure the angle of that sharp jawline. Steve’s silky blonde hair and his soft relaxed ears made Tony’s hands itch to pat them. He imagined delicately touching Steve’s thick dark blonde lashes that fanned against his lower lids.

But he could settle for looking at Steve.

After a few minutes of being a creepy, staring cat, Tony found that he couldn’t. He was too drawn in by Steve’s comfortably sleeping form to stay away. He must be so warm, because Steve always ran hot. In more ways than one. Tony found that he had inched closer and closer until he was unexpectedly on the couch as well, having settled down, light as a feather. Steve stirred slightly but only turned towards Tony. It couldn’t harm anyone if Tony curled up here for a little nap as well, right? He was a cat, this was his couch; it wasn’t like Steve could blame him for napping on his own couch. It was what cats did.

And if Tony leaned his head ever so slightly onto Steve’s shoulder, slowly breathing in Steve’s warm, sunshine scent, then no one needed to know that.

When Tony slowly woke up later, much later, he realized he was purring, a steady rumble curling out from deep inside his chest as his hands opened and closed with pleasure. It was no wonder he was purring, he was warm and the sleep was good and he felt safe. The delicious scent of home and safety wrapped around him, and he was simply happy, contented to lie there in a haze of half sleep as he purred and purred and purred.

Then he heard a little sound, a hitched breath, and realized something had lured him out of his comfortable slumber. What was that? He pried one eye open reluctantly and peeked out.

He had been napping, purring up a storm on comfortable warmth. His eye took in what he was pressed against, face turned almost entirely into a white cotton-clad shoulder.

 _Steve_.

Oops, he was curled up against Steve, face practically pressed into Steve’s arm and his legs were tucked up on the couch under him. And his hands, his hands were kneading high on Steve’s thigh, hands squeezing and releasing slowly with deep contentment like he could make well-kneaded dough out of that muscular thigh. And his claws had dug in a few times into the denim-clad leg, so that must not have been comfortable at all even if Tony didn’t scent any blood in the air. Double oops.

That hitched breath must be…Steve.

Tony slowly relaxed his hold on Steve’s leg — that amazingly firm and muscular thigh that Tony had been kneading so high up on his leg, near his crotch, oh fuck — and lifted his hands away. Then he straightened up and stretched, long and luxurious. He knew his face was red, his purring had cut off and his tail was flicking anxiously. But he was going to pretend none of that was true, because the only way to deal with such situations was pure denial. Tony finally looked at Steve’s face.

While Tony was striving for control over his embarrassment, Steve’s face was flaming red, ears flat against his scalp and hands held still above his thighs like he had been trying very hard not to move. Tony pushed down a welling of shame.

“You should have woken me up if I was hurting you,” Tony said, quiet, trying to sound like he was just chiding Steve.

“You weren’t,” Steve said in a rush, turning to look at Tony with earnest eyes. “I just… I didn’t expect to wake up to that. You were purring. It was… I really liked the purring. You sounded happy.”

The shame was washed away with a flood of warmth and happiness. Steve _liked_ Tony’s purring. He _liked_ Tony sounding happy. But contrary by nature, Tony couldn’t help but look away, feeling the happy warmth tinged with embarrassment again. Even his pointed ears felt warm. How ridiculous, cats did not _blush_.

“You were like a space heater and your supersoldier shoulder was superhumanly comfortable,” Tony said, trying to sound airy. “Anyway, now that we’re both awake, do you want some coffee? I’ll go make some coffee. I’m out of it down here, but I can get some from upstairs.”

Tony flowed off the couch in a way that only cats could do and was already halfway to the door when Steve called out, “Tony, wait.”

But Tony was fast and he was out the door into the elevator before he could hear what Steve had to say. He clasped his hands against his hot furry ears, trying to will down his blush. God, how embarrassing. He had just been surprised by Steve’s words, that was all. He just needed some space, some time to himself as he got them coffee, then he could pretend he was absolutely composed and fine. Yes, that was a good plan.

Except he got to the kitchen and was faced with another dilemma. It was an irksome problem, one that only happened because the stupid tall people in the house insisted on keeping regularly used mugs on high shelves. Tony rubbed a wrist against the counter as he glared up at the mugs that were out of his reach.

It should be something he could do. No problem. It was something every cat could do, except for his kind of cat apparently. But he was going to conquer it.

Tony had one knee on the counter, reaching up to the highest shelf, when Steve walked through the doorway. The scent, the tread of his footsteps, it could only be Steve. And even before Steve said anything, Tony felt suddenly very conscious of how ungainly he must look, half on the kitchen counter, precariously balanced, being a pretty crappy cat. Tensing up was a very bad move in this position but that was exactly what he did.

He tipped off the counter.

There was a flurry of movement, and suddenly Steve was there, except Tony had been twisting in mid-air, so instead of Tony landing on his feet or Steve catching him, they both collided with flailing limbs.

When all movement had finally stopped, Tony was on top of Steve on the floor, head pillowed on Steve’s chest. Steve gave out a little whine, probably from pain. Tony sighed, and took a breath to say something. Whatever it was would surely have been witty and worked to defuse the situation, except he had taken a deep breath of their mixed scents, from when they had been napping together. Suddenly, Tony was overwhelmed by happiness and pleasure, couldn’t help but rub his cheek against Steve’s chest to get that _mine mine mine_ scent right in. Feeling Steve’s arms go around his waist and squeeze, Tony wanted to purr again because this was pure bliss. He luxuriated in the soft cotton of Steve’s T-shirt against his cheek and their scents intertwining all the more.

It probably lasted less than ten seconds, but Tony’s human brain finally swooped in to kick his hind brain in the ass, screaming, ‘ _Abort, abort!_ ’ and chasing away the sweet rush of dopamine with hectic adrenaline instead. With the return of higher thought and instinct taking a backseat, Tony realized he was crossing a line by marking Steve so blatantly. The dawning realization made him want to squirm away, to go into hiding, but he forced himself to stay calm, to act natural as he pushed himself up and away gracefully. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down, before reaching down to give Steve a hands up. To his great relief, Steve looked normal as he got up and kept a hold of Tony’s hand. In fact, Steve was still smiling at him, blue eyes friendly and tail wagging invitingly. Oh god, with their mixed scents in the air and Steve’s outward friendliness, Tony was swamped again by the urge to press up close or to pat Steve’s silky-looking ears. His hand reached up…

From the doorway, Clint said, “I have never seen a cat that was as bad at climbing as you are.”

Steve and Tony jumped apart at his voice, not realizing he had entered the kitchen.

Steve rolled his eyes, ears drooping a little. “You’re stereotyping again, Clint.”

“I’m only telling the truth,” Clint pointed out.

Tony hackles raised a little as he turned away from Clint, glaring up at the shelf where someone had put his favorite Iron Man mug. Who put commonly used mugs on the highest shelves anyway? Well, who needed climbing? Climbing was so primitive. Tony flexed his hands.

Less than 30 seconds later, parts of his Iron Man suit came sailing out the elevator. The red and gold armor wrapped around his calves and boots, forming the Iron Man boots. Then the repulsors activated and Tony hovered upwards until he could easily reach his mug. Then he dropped back to the ground.

“Who needs climbing, Less Pretty Merida?” Tony said, almost preening.

Clint had his phone out and was typing on it. “I’m posting on twitter that you use Iron Man to fetch your mug.”

Steve was staring at Tony with bright eyes, obviously trying not to grin, even as his tail wagged behind him.

“I do what I want,” Tony said, unconcerned.

The video of Tony in his Iron Man boots, reaching for his Iron Man mug and then saying, “I do what I want,” had more than a million retweets in less than an hour. It was accompanied by Clint’s original hashtag: #CatsDoWhatTheyWant

# # # # # #

Steve, Thor and Clint had shifted, and were roughhousing in the Avengers’ common lounge with a complete lack of dignity. Steve’s gigantic dog form was a pale silver-gold streak as he lunged at Thor in his lion shift and latched onto his mane. Thor let out an ear-shattering roar, which was completely unnecessary showboating, and then wrapped his large paws around Steve’s body in a stranglehold. Clint’s masked raccoon face popped in and out from between the bodies, gnawing and pinching wherever he could, eliciting growls and roars from the larger predators as they tried and failed to pin down his wriggly form. Clint’s hand-like paws meant he could deliver some awesome pinches as he scrabbled over and under the struggling bodies.

In a real fight, Tony knew there would be a lot more blood and fur flying. Steve could have harassed Thor with his speed and gone for his carotid artery, and Thor could have disembowelled Steve with his powerful hind legs and claws. Clint could have jabbed at eyes and probably wielded a knife or even a gun, which was always a disturbing sight when he did that in his raccoon form.

So despite all the dramatic sounds, Tony wasn’t worried. He just sat with his legs crossed on the long bench by the windows, watching them with relaxed amusement and a little envy. He ran his hands against the edge of the bench over and over again as he wished he could join in. Much as he often felt like slinking away for some peace and quiet away from the constant clamor of attention under the public eye, Tony didn’t feel that way around his team anymore. He saw this crazy bunch as his family now and rather than wanting to hide away from them, he wanted to join in. He wanted to _play_.

But he knew he couldn’t.

He had never shifted in front of the team before, and in this whole wide world, only Pepper, Rhodey and Happy knew his true shift. It would be a big problem if the public ever found out the truth, but he knew that his team would accept him regardless of his shift. The real problem was that no matter how logical he was about it, he couldn’t seem to make himself do it. And now that it had been a year without him ever shifting in front of the others, it felt like he had made it too big of a deal. Despite the hints and not-so-casual invites, he had never shifted and joined in. If he did it now, wouldn’t it be weird?

This was where his instincts often clashed with his rational thought. His instincts just wanted him to _play_ with his extended family, his thoughts just churned in circles until he had a headache.

He sighed, and rubbed the back of his right ear. His eyes lingered on Steve’s dog form, watching those strong legs bunch up as he leapt at Thor. Steve’s ears were large against his long, elegant skull, blue eyes bright and jaws parted to reveal long sharp teeth in a bout of playful growling. His fur was long and thick, the unusual hue gleaming in the natural sunlight and looked like it would be perfect to bury paws in for a satisfying knead. That extraordinarily fluffy tail was waving back and forth in delight, making Tony twitch with the urge to leap on it.

As Tony tried to curb his hunting instincts, the elevator doors slid open, and Bucky and Sam walked out, bags slung over their shoulders. They must have just came back from that outdoor trip they had been planning.

The sight of the wrestling dog, lion and raccoon greeted them. They exchanged glances and with no hesitation, dropped their bags and shifted shapes too. The magic involved in shifting meant that Bucky’s silver arm morphed as well to accommodate his new shape. The dark wolf with the silver prosthetic leg and the flapping goshawk dove onto the fighting shifters. There was a howl of outrage from Steve, before he turned around to include Bucky in his attacks. It was now a fiveway brawl.

Tony was starting to shift from envious to annoyed. He was sitting right there, and Bucky and Sam didn’t even greet him before diving in. What a bunch of punks. He flicked out one claw and gnawed at it gently.

If Bruce was here instead of holed up in his lab in the middle of an experiment, he would at least keep Tony company on the sidelines since he wasn’t willing to risk Hulking out in the middle of the tower by play-fighting. Natasha and Rhodey on the other hand had 50-50 odds as to whether they would join in the games had they been present. But Natasha was out, in her own words, ‘keeping her information-gathering skills sharp’, while Rhodey, who was only occasionally on loan to the Avengers, was back at some military base.  So here Tony was, being a wallflower, not even getting a greeting from his teammates before they wrestled like a bunch of hooligans.

And now he could smell how much their scents were mixing together the longer they brawled and the more their adrenalines got going. Tony hissed under his breath. Steve’s scent probably didn’t even have a hint of Tony’s left on him, since casual touching wasn’t going to hold up against such prolonged close contact wrestling.

But Tony knew how to deal with this.

After all, he knew all the ways to get a dog to chase a cat.

The common lounge had a wide open space, large enough to accommodate spontaneous brawling after the first time it happened and wrecked all the furniture and decoration around the place. The group wrestling had taken them to the corner of the open area, near where Tony was sitting by the windows. At this point, Steve, Bucky and Clint were fighting in a tumbled heap, while Thor tried to leap high enough to attack Sam. In a normal fight, Thor could fly with the help of Mjolnir even in his lion form, but he left it out for this bout of play. Steve was trying to pin Bucky, while Bucky thrashed out of his grip and tried to pin Clint in turn.

Tony unfolded his crossed legs and flowed off the bench gracefully. He added an extra sway to his tail as he walked deliberately close to the wrestling trio. It wasn’t his fault that they were right by his path towards the kitchen.

He timed his stride and the sway of his slowly undulating tail just right so that as he walked by the group, his tail smacked Steve right in the nose as he was about to chomp down on Bucky’s metal foreleg. Steve jerked back, nose twitching and eyes snapping towards Tony’s tail. Tony gave a little jump, jerking his tail up like he was surprised at this hit, and kept walking with his tail arched up in the air, hooked at the end like a little question mark. The end of his tail twitched a few times, because he couldn’t hold in his _happy_ and _hello!_ and _come play_ invitation.

He turned his head a little to see if he caught Steve’s attention, only to see an overly large pale gold dog barrelling towards him. Letting out a laugh, Tony jumped and ran for it, tail held up high in the air.

His instincts had him turning around to meet the canine threat just as Steve flung himself forward. They went down onto the cushy carpet in a roll of human and dog limbs. Steve ended up on top, ears pricked forward, mouth open and tongue lolling in a happy lupine grin. Steve leaned down, snuffled Tony under his chin, and then gave him a big wet lick up one cheek.

“Ewww, Steve,” Tony said, rubbing his clothed shoulder against his cheek. “You little shit.”

Steve only panted with glee, those familiar blue eyes were clearly laughing at him. Tony sank his hands into the fur around Steve’s jaws, scratching all the way to the back of his ears. Steve’s hind leg thumped unconsciously and his eyes closed with bliss. Tony smirked and stopped which led Steve to open one eye to give Tony a Look. Message received, Tony laughed again, and scratched behind his ears. Steve gave a low, satisfied growl and let his body go limp, dropping on top of Tony with a happy whine.

Tony let out a tiny ‘mrp’, which made Steve snuffle at his ear.

“You heavy lug,” Tony grumbled, but he didn’t stop scratching behind Steve’s ear, revelling in the silky soft fur under his fingers. From atop him, Steve let out a happy, rumbling sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter went on a bit because Tony`s rambling got a little out of hand, oops... Um, hope you still enjoyed!


	3. Steve

From his prime position inside the communal kitchen, Steve watched Tony watch the television. He pretended to focus on the coffee he was making while he watched Tony frown and look down at his Starkpad. Then the sound of cheering from the television pulled Tony’s attention back to the show that was playing.

When Tony was down in his workshop or in Bruce’s labs, he could easily fall into the zone while working and block out every bit of distraction, like a cat on the hunt except instead of food, he was prowling after scientific progress. But when he did work in the common room, in front of the television, everyone knew that Tony was looking for a little distraction.

Tony’s ears swivelled, furry tips twitching, and Steve hurriedly stirred the coffee he had neglected. It was very easy to be caught out by Tony. A cat’s habit of pretending not to be paying attention made it easy to forget that they might not be as distracted as they seemed.

Steve added a dash of milk to the coffee, letting his sense of smell tell him when he added just the perfect amount to suit Tony’s exacting taste. When he was done, he looked at Tony out of the corner of his eyes. Tony’s tawny-gold ears were pricked forward, his large golden eyes focussed on the television once more as he rubbed his wrist against the couch’s armrest in absent-minded habit. His slender tail was curled primly around the side of his right leg and Steve longed to run a finger along each of the dark rings going up that tawny tail. But he knew his uninvited touch would likely be rebuffed.

Eyeing those ears and that pliable tail, Steve would guess from the coloring that Tony’s shifted form was a domestic cat, probably a golden-brown tabby. But he didn’t know for sure, because Tony had never shifted in front of any of the team. It was something that bothered Steve, even though he knew it shouldn’t. Shifting was a personal choice and some shifters did it without care wherever they were while others preferred to shift only when they felt safe. But most people shifted in front of family and close friends, shared a more instinctive type of bonding in their shifted forms. Once shifted, people were more likely to be freer with their reactions, letting their masks and insecurities drop. The Avengers had been together for more than a year now, lived in the same tower for almost as long. Everyone felt comfortable shifting in front of each other and spending some downtime together that way, everyone but Tony.

It was disheartening.

Were they doing something to make Tony feel uncomfortable or wary about shifting? Steve felt they had done all they could to make Tony feel welcomed, but they still hadn’t managed to entice Tony into shifting. He wondered if he should talk to Rhodey or Pepper about this. But that seemed like he would be prying.

Also, Steve was aware that there was some part of him that had personal and maybe selfish reasons for wanting Tony to shift. He really wanted to see Tony’s shifted form, to roll in his scent, to know every part of Tony and not just his human form. He wanted to snooze in the sun with Tony in his cat form, to play wrestle with Tony and feel Tony bite his little cat teeth into his fur, scuffle around on the ground until they were exhausted.

Trying to suppress a sigh because he knew Tony would pick up on that, Steve took out the spoon from the mug he had been unnecessarily stirring all that while.

Steve looked at Tony again, who had his amber eyes back on his tablet. Well, if Tony was looking for some distraction, Steve was happy to provide it. After all, Steve knew exactly how to get this cat’s attention.

Steve picked the spoon up, being sure to let some coffee drip on his fingers when he placed the spoon in the sink. Then casually, he ran damp fingers up and down his right ear, like he was scratching it. When he was certain that he had left coffee residue on his ear and that a patch of his pale fur would be standing ruffled and on end, he washed the spoon in the sink and then picked up the mug of coffee before he headed out of the kitchen.

“Here you go,” he said as he held out the mug to Tony, having offered to make him some earlier.

Tony looked up, lashes dark against his liquid gold eyes that gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. “What did you put in there?”

Steve said with a casual shrug, “A little milk, one sugar.”

Just the way Tony liked it. Even now, the smell of hot coffee twining with Tony’s unique scent was warm and inviting. People liked to stereotype dogs and cats as hating each other’s scents, but Steve had never found any truth in that. Cats smelled like cats. Except for Tony. Tony smelled sweet, like the heat of a kitchen that had baking bread, like every delicious spice that warmed the tongue. His scent was best when mixed in with coffee, with oil and metal, when tinged with _happiness_.

But Steve was letting his nose get away with him. Fortunately, Tony was busy lifting the mug out of Steve’s hold and curling his own hands around the warm ceramic. Tony took a rapturous sniff of the hot liquid and smiled with clear enjoyment.

“Hm, nothing in this that should require that much stirring,” Tony said with a teasing flash of fang, wearing a genuine smile instead of the empty charm he reserved for public events where his canines were almost always hidden from sight. “I thought you might have put in something unusual.”

“Nah. Just got distracted,” Steve said, hoping he wasn’t blushing from having been caught out.

“What were you thinking about?” Tony asked, before taking a sip of the coffee. He let out a soft ‘mrr’ of enjoyment, eyes slitting shut momentarily.

Steve shrugged, lying baldly, “Just thinking about the last mission. What are you watching?”

Then with great nonchalance, he sat down on the ground cross-legged right in front of the couch, just a little to Tony’s left.

“Masterchef,” Tony answered. “Why are you on the floor? There’s a perfectly good couch right here.”

“There’s a perfectly good floor here too. Are you going to take up cooking?” Steve asked, trying to distract Tony. “You’ve been watching a lot of Masterchef lately.”

“God, no. You’re lucky I’ve no delusions about my culinary skills. It’s just interesting to see what people can create out of basic food stuff.”

Steve nodded. “I get that. I like watching people create and work with their hands.”

He tipped his head back, taking a peek at Tony who had his eyebrows raised, expression contemplative. “Really? Even when they’re sticking their hands in meats and sauces?”

Steve grinned. “Food, paint, clay, motor oil, it doesn’t really matter. Getting a little dirty can be fun.”

“Good to know,” Tony replied, a little bit of a purr in his voice. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Steve shivered and then looked forward again, pretending that he was watching the cooking competition while putting his plan in motion. Less than one minute later, he flicked his right ear, like there was something on it that was irritating him. He kept his eye on the show, flicking his ear every so often.

He felt Tony lean forward and take a delicate sniff of his ear. “I think you have some coffee on your ear. How did you even manage that?”

Steve reached up and rubbed his left ear instead of his right. “Really? That’s strange.”

“Yes, really, I can smell it, and your ear keeps-”

Steve flicked his right ear again.

Tony let out a low growl. “Oh, come on.”

He grabbed Steve by the shoulder and pulled him closer to the couch. Steve felt hot breath against his right ear before a raspy tongue dragged across it. Tony proceeded to lick Steve’s ear aggressively, ridding his fur of any coffee traces and also grooming Steve’s fur back into place.

Steve’s tail started wagging like crazy; he couldn’t suppress it even if he tried. He slumped back against Tony’s legs, boneless as Tony groomed him. It was a very rare event because Tony didn’t groom anyone much. Steve was in a state of bliss under Tony’s exacting attention, feeling those strong hands beginning to knead instinctively on Steve’s shoulders. Their entwining scents were heady, the perfect combination that left Steve feeling almost dizzy with the pleasure of it. This was what heaven was like, this was what he had been hoping for all these months. Maybe he could finally, _finally_ ask Tony if they could groom each other on a regular basis…

Which of course, was when the Avengers alert went off.

# # # # # #

Steve was hitting extra hard on the battlefield. It might have a little something to do with how he had managed to manoeuvre himself into being groomed by Tony only to be interrupted by the Enchantress attacking lower Manhattan. Yes, Steve could be petty sometimes, and he wasn’t even ashamed of it. Thor needed to do something about the people who supposedly loved him, but kept trying to do terrible things to Earth to make some kind of point. Couldn’t they just send him love letters instead?

The Enchantress laughed and pointed at a car, the ring on her index finger glowing green as the car was enveloped in a sickly aura. Suddenly, in its place, was a large rhino. A large, _angry_ rhino.

Steve swore as he dodged the charging rhino, leaping onto a fire hydrant and kicking off it so that he landed on the rhino’s back as it ran past him. He reached out and covered the rhino’s right eye with his shield, pulling hard on the rhino’s left ear at the same time. The rhino instinctively swerved towards where it could still see and ended up crashing into a truck. Steve leapt off before he could suffer the same impact, and landed nimbly on his feet.

He snapped the shield to his back before he shifted into his pale gold dog form. The shield disappeared with his shift, perhaps going to the pocket dimension he had heard Tony and Bruce theorize about, but he didn’t dwell on it. He tipped his head back and howled, a penetrating and echoing summons that was recognizable now to the people of New York. The civilians reacted instinctively, running towards him and ducking behind him when he indicated with his muzzle where to go. They headed for safety down the street where he had positioned himself, away from where the fighting had broken out.

When most of the civilians were away from the epicenter of the chaos, he charged forward, attacking a transformed truck that was now a hippo. A normal dog might not be able to do anything about an enraged hippo, but a humongous dog with super serum in his veins was more than its match.

Tony, Sam and Rhodey were flying overhead in their human forms, corralling and blasting any airborne creatures the Enchantress had transformed. It was fortunate that Rhodey was here on a visit and could help; having another heavy hitter around meant they didn’t have to call a Code Green yet, so Bruce was still in the quinjet. Further up the street came a lion’s powerful roar as Thor tackled an elephant that had once been a bus. Natasha was somewhere to Steve’s right, keeping her human form to stop the other transformed animals from attacking any straggling civilians, while Bucky and Clint remained high up on their perches, shooting down any animals they got their sights on.

Things seemed like they were under control, and Steve had the hippo pinned down when he heard a scream from the Enchantress. The hippo underneath him transformed back into a truck, although it was a truck with bites all over its lights and fender. Steve stopped attacking the truck and looked around. All the transformed animals were turning back into inanimate objects, dropping unmoving to the ground as half destroyed cars and traffic lights.

He saw the source of Enchantress’ rage. Tony must have sneak attacked her and gotten the ring away, removing the source of these magical transformations. Still holding the ring, Tony in his Iron Man armor turned in the air and took off quickly. Steve grinned, proud of Tony’s quick thinking. He admired the grace and speed of the gleaming red and gold suit, even though he still thought it was a shame that Tony didn’t include cat ears and tail on it. It must have been uncomfortable, having to fold his ears back beneath the helmet and squash his tail down one leg of the armor. And cat ears and tail on the suit would have been _adorable_.

Steve thought Tony had gotten away with the move, but a falling street sign, that was just a few seconds ago some flying creature, forced Tony to swerve back and slow his ascent. The Enchantress leapt on the opportunity, slicing her hand through the air as she snarled, “ _Take your animal shape_.”

Damnit, that was a familiar spell that she had cast on most of the Avengers before at varying points. She had never tried it on Tony, through his suit, but there was a good chance it would work. Tony bobbed in the air and dropped a couple feet. The glowing ring fell from Iron Man’s red gauntlet, and the Enchantress leapt forward, snatching the ring out from the air. Tony turned, not with his usual grace as he listed to the side, but he was still airborne. Maybe the spell didn’t work through the armor, or didn’t work as expected. Steve started running forward, determined to provide support.

Tony jerked a gauntlet up and fired a repulsor blast at the Enchantress. But she whirled aside and pointed at him with the ring back on her finger.

Steve felt an icy grip around his heart. If she turned the Iron Man suit into an animal, what would happen to Tony while he was inside the suit? Steve howled in dismay, charging forward.

Tony’s reaction time seemed to have been affected in some way, because he didn’t dodge in time, and suddenly, Iron Man’s gleaming red and gold metal disintegrated, seemed to melt away into the air. Steve wanted to scream, the sound only emerging as a high pitched whine of horror. Then he realized that the armor was dissolving into tiny butterflies, metal reshaping into thousands of fluttering iridescent red and gold insects that scattered into the air. And from the air, dropped…

…Tony?

For a moment, Steve couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing and stumbled, almost crashing muzzle first into concrete. Something small dropped out of the air, and for a heart-stopping second, Steve thought it was a body part, that Tony had been dismembered somehow when the armor transformed. But where was the rest of him? Then the small thing landed on the ground and ripped the air with a surprisingly loud and deep yowl.

The Enchantress seemed just as taken aback, before bending down to look at the creature. She started laughing.

“Oh, so my first spell did work. Is that you, little Stark? Is that your animal shape?” She reached out and poked at the small lump, continuing in a sing-song tone, “What an adorable little creature you are, do you need help—”

Then the small fuzzy bundle leapt at her face.

The Enchantress screamed in agony, her hands coming up to scrabble at the animal clawing with a murderous hissing fury at her head, digging and tearing bloody lines into her skin. Steve was already running again, almost upon them as she finally managed to detach the whirlwind of fluff and claws from her face. She flung the animal away from her, and Steve barked in horror. But the creature twisted easily in the air and landed on all four feet.

“ _You_ , I’ll hurt you,” the Enchantress snarled, pointing a finger...only to realize that the ring was no longer on her finger.

The creature, which Steve could now see was a somewhat small cat, was holding the ring in his mouth. He pointed his small muzzle at the Enchantress and meowed. She let out a gasp and with a flash of green light, she turned into a bicycle. The little cat dropped the ring on the road and meowed with clear satisfaction.

Steve walked slowly over, trying to keep his head low so as not to be threatening. He sniffed as he approached, drinking in the scents in the air.

There was the heavy tang of wood smoke that always accompanied sustained magic usage and the leftover traces of the Enchantress’ sweet perfume. There was the scent of paint, engine, petrol, smoke, tar, food, garbage, overlaid with the scent of people upon people, all the scents of a street in a busy city. None of the various animals they had fought left any smell, which made sense since they hadn’t been real, just objects turned into rampaging animals. Steve ignored all that, focusing on a single scent trail. The little cat turned to him as he drew up, ears flattened in response. There it was, the familiar comforting smell of metal and oil, solder and spices, warmth and _home_. It was unmistakeably Tony’s scent.

And it was coming from the little cat.

Steve cocked his head. He didn’t understand. Everyone said Tony had a domestic cat shift, but this didn’t look like a domestic cat. The tawny coat with black spots and rings around his limbs indicated a wild cat, albeit a small one, smaller even than a regular domestic cat. Could Tony be in a juvenile cat form? But it didn’t make sense. People started shifting when they were teenagers, and they might shift into a juvenile animal, but they grew out of that in adulthood. There was no way Tony should be presenting as a juvenile cat. The feline before his eyes didn’t look like a cat that hadn’t reached adulthood either. Proportionally, this was a grown cat, but a small one.

There was a possibility that the Enchantress had changed Tony into something that he wasn’t, but that didn’t seem to be the case based on the things she had said. She had cast the usual spell, the one that trapped people in their animal shifts for a day, and then Iron Man had wobbled in the air…

Tony’s ears were pinned back under Steve’s scrutiny, eyes huge and dilated, with fur standing on ends. He looked even fluffier with his hackles raised and it didn’t quite have the intimidating effect he was probably going for. At least Tony wasn’t hissing, which Steve thought was a bonus. Steve realized how rude he was being, and backed up with a small whine. He shook his head and shifted into his human body, snapping into place again in a crouching position. Sure, he was still big and probably unsettling when viewed from Tony’s height, but he could also communicate now. 

“Hey, Tony, are you okay?” Steve asked, keeping his voice low.

Tony let out a sad meow and stared up at something behind Steve. It was only then that Steve noticed that the Iron Man armor had reformed behind him, probably losing its shape as a cloud of butterflies after the ring was removed from the Enchantress’ finger.

“That was a smart move,” Steve complimented, knowing he had to do it now before they got caught up with whatever came next. “The way you took the ring from the Enchantress.”

Tony blinked large eyes and looked to the side, letting out a familiar ‘mrp’ of a squeak which made Steve smile. He asked Tony solemnly, “Do you need a lift to the quinjet?”

He was just thinking that it would take a long time for Tony to navigate all the debris in his small form. But Tony ignored him and stalked over to the Iron Man suit, brushing by Steve’s leg on the way as Steve held very still, and pawed at a red boot.

The Iron Man suit opened up, and from within its empty insides, J.A.R.V.I.S.’ voice said, “Captain, I believe Sir requires, ahem, assistance to get onto his platform.”

A little harness-like metal platform unfolded from inside the Iron Man suit’s chest. It was shaped to hold a small cat, complete with four leg braces. What the hell… Wow, that must have been how Tony had been able to pilot Iron Man, even after he had been turned into his cat form by the Enchantress.

“Alright, I’m picking you up now,” Steve warned, which was only the polite thing to do.

Steve picked up the stiff little furry body, trying to ignore the tension radiating from Tony _and_ ignore his own urge to bury his face in Tony’s soft fur. Before he could step up to the Iron Man suit, Tony’s ears pricked up and swivelled back. So did Steve’s, when he detected the near-silent footsteps.

“What is going on here?” Natasha asked, coming up behind them.

From in front of them, Thor stalked closer, shifting seamlessly mid-step from his lion form into his human one. “Friends, what is happening? Is that…is that Tony?”

Thor looked taken aback. Steve decided he had better hurry up, because this discussion was better held when they were back at the tower rather than in the middle of the street. Already, there were probably people taking photos of the scene, and Steve was just remembering that Tony’s shifted animal form had never been photographed before and no one knew his shift wasn’t a regular domestic cat.

He turned his grip on Tony so that he could settle him in the harness properly, trying to block anyone’s view with his body.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Steve said in response to Thor. But Tony must have thought it was directed at him as well and it might have sounded reproachful too, because he flattened his ears and narrowed his eyes.

Steve took a step back, and before he could say another word, the Iron Man armor folded shut around Tony’s cat form and took off into the air.

“I think he really doesn’t want to talk about it,” Natasha pointed out.

“What’s new?” Steve sighed, looking down at his empty hands, wishing he had a bit more time with Tony’s other form.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least this time, Tony has a good reason for running away (or flying away in this case) from tough discussions right? :P
> 
> Thanks for reading! You're all amazing!


	4. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your lovely and supportive comments continue to blow me away! 
> 
> While this has been beta-read, I continue to obsessively edit after the beta-reading. I apologise for any mistakes and I blame it on jetlag and extreme sleep deprivation. ^_^;

When Steve and Tony first met, they didn’t get along. They rubbed each other’s fur the wrong way right from the start, and any little interaction between them was tense and left them with their hackles raised.

Steve knew it had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that they were a cat shifter and a dog shifter. It wasn’t about clashing instincts. The Howling Commandoes had cat shifters, like Falsworth and Jacques, and Steve never had a problem with them. Steve had even worked with Tony’s father who had also been a cat shifter, and although they hadn’t been very close, he got along with Howard. In fact, Steve chalked it all down to how Tony was the least feline cat shifter he had ever met.

Tony was brazen and loud, calling attention to himself any opportunity he got. From the moment Tony landed in Stuttgart, he joked around with people he hardly knew, touched and poked dangerous shifters he just met, made light of everything while trusting nothing. He was ceaselessly flippant, and Steve didn’t understand why Fury insisted Tony be there on the helicarrier when Fury didn’t seem like a man who would tolerate someone who was there just to showboat.

Then Tony threw himself into the line of fire, saved the helicarrier while trusting Steve with his life and almost gotten chewed up by the rotors as a result. Steve’s idea of Tony had already changed by the time the chitauris descended onto New York, he already knew that what Tony showed you and what Tony actually thought or felt could be two entirely different things. By the time Tony flew the nuclear warhead into the portal knowing it might be a one way trip, Steve had already known that it didn’t matter if Tony behaved like a cat shifter or not; he just knew that Tony was a good man, and he didn’t want to see him die.

His relief when Tony survived had been so sharp, it had been like a bright spark in the persistent numb fog surrounding Steve since he came out of the ice. From then on, he had tried harder to see through Tony’s layers. There wasn’t an instant change in how they interacted, because they still clashed after that, sometimes explosively as well, with voices raised, canine teeth bared and fur on ends. Steve knew that partly, it had to do with Tony’s preconception of Steve from whatever nonsense Howard had told him. But it was also in part due to Steve, trying to figure out what was real and what was for show with Tony, pushing harder sometimes to see more, when he should step back.

He learned that there was an overlap in what was for the outside world and what was just for family, learned that Tony did like the attention sometimes, but sometimes he had to like it because there was no other choice. He learned that Tony enjoyed the breathless dive against the blue skies as Iron Man, but he also loved working and tinkering in the depths of the tower, surrounded by his own creations and tools in his workshop. Slowly but surely, Tony had let himself be seen by his team, by Steve.

But now, more of himself had been revealed than he had ever intended.

By the time they all got back to the tower, he was nowhere in sight. That wasn’t much of a surprise. Tony hadn’t voluntarily shown his true shift to anyone, not that they had known that there was even a secret to it. The whole world thought Tony’s animal shift was a regular domestic cat, and now the whole world would know the truth, what with how quickly news spread nowadays. Steve wondered when they would see Tony again since the Enchantress’ spell that forced people into their animal shifts tended to last for a day. Steve had to stifle a small whine at the idea that he wouldn’t get to see Tony for a whole day.

They had gravitated to the common area, minus Thor who had to take the Enchantress in bicycle form back to Asgard, which just showed that life was stranger than fiction when Asgardians were involved.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., is Tony alright?” Steve asked. “Does he need any help with…anything?”

It was ridiculous. Tony had lived with his cat shift all his life. Why would he need help with anything? But Steve couldn’t help how much he wanted to be in Tony’s company right now, to breathe in his scent to be sure he was alright, curl up around that small form to keep him safe.

“Sir is physically uninjured, and he is working with DUM-E and U right now. He does not require any assistance,” J.A.R.V.I.S. explained.

DUM-E and U? But they were so big, what if they accidentally rolled over Tony, or squished his tail, or— Steve had to clench his jaw and shake himself out of a spiral of worry over Tony. His protective instincts were flaring up strongly, worse than usual since he hadn’t been able to check over Tony post-battle. He knew he managed to keep his face and ears immobile, holding back his worry, but his drooped tail tucked between his legs probably gave away his feelings on the situation.

Rhodey sat down on the couch with a sigh, having left the Iron Patriot in his room. “Look, stop fussing, Steve. I just spoke to Tony, and he said he was fine. He probably needs some time to get used to how everyone saw him in his cat shift.”

J.A.R.V.I.S. probably played translator between Rhodey and Tony, since J.A.R.V.I.S.’ original purpose was to be a language module for people in their shifted forms. He couldn’t really translate complex sentences or ideas, but he could extrapolate enough from a database of recorded noises and body language based on past interactions.

Steve tried not to sound jealous, but he suspected he failed miserably when he asked, “You knew what his animal form is?”

Of course Rhodey knew. He was Tony’s best friend, it made sense for Rhodey to be in the know. But that didn’t stop a small part of Steve that wanted to sit up and howl at the injustice of life where Tony didn’t think he could share this secret with Steve.

“I do, and now that you all know, you’ll probably see more of it. As long as you play it cool. Don’t stare and make it weird,” Rhodey said, although it was more like an order as he looked each of them in the eye. He didn’t say it aloud, but it was implicit that he was telling each of them not to fuck this up, not to pump up whatever insecurities or issues Tony had about his shift.

Steve wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure how to say it without triggering Rhodey’s defensiveness. Thankfully, Bruce beat him to the punch.

Bruce held his hands out like he was measuring a small loaf of bread and started saying, “Why is he so…”

Then he stopped, glancing at Rhodey and reading something in his expression that made him hesitate.

“He’s a black-footed cat,” Natasha said, hand on one hip while she looked down at her phone.

“You knew what his shift was too?” Steve blurted out, unable to help himself.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “No, I didn’t. But I just Googled small wild cats and picked the one that looked like him.”

She held her phone out and everyone except Rhodey crowded in closer to look. There were two photos of the cat, and from the front-facing photo, Steve could see the rounded ears and large eyes that he had seen on Tony. The photo from the side, a full-body shot, showed a cat with a stocky build and a short tail with a black tip. The cat’s beautiful sandy gold coat had black spots across it, and black rings around the legs, neck and tail. It was a pretty close likeness to how Tony had looked in his animal form, although his fur was of a richer gold shade.

“Awww, that’s adorable,” Clint cooed, only to let out an ‘oomph’ when he was elbowed by Natasha. “What? I didn’t get to see Tony up-close, I was too high up. I’m sure he’s nowhere as cute as that cat. He’s too much of an asshole to be that cute.”

“He’s going to use your legs as a scratching post,” Bucky said with a grin.

Sam gave him a sidelong look. “What do you even know about cats?”

Steve, who was the regular recipient of cute cat videos Bucky found online, including ones where the cats behaved like little hellions, knew better than to question Bucky’s extensive feline knowledge. He craned his neck to read the page Natasha had on her phone, even reaching out with a finger to scroll down her screen to read the rest of the Wikipedia article. His tension must have been enough for Nat to forgive his transgression, when she was usually very intolerant of her phone being handled without permission.

From the article, Steve found out that black footed cats were a small wild cat species, and from the size description, a little smaller than typical domestic cats. Steve realized then why Tony must have kept this a secret. There was still prejudice against Wilders in positions of power, as they were seen as unreliable and not good as team players, unsuitable for making reasoned and cool decisions as a leader. Worse still was that Tony wasn’t even a large predator, which meant he would be perceived as being weaker than larger Wilders. His shifted form as a rather small wild cat would be seen as a disadvantage in every way.

Clint’s head suddenly obscured Steve’s view as he almost plastered himself to Natasha’s phone to read as well. Steve had to tamp down on the urge to pick Clint up by the scruff and deposit him to the side.

“‘ _Unlike most other cats_ ,’” Clint began, obviously reading aloud, “‘ _black-footed cats are poor climbers, and will generally ignore tree branches. Their stocky bodies and short tails are not conducive to tree-climbing. They dig vigorously in the sand to extend or modify burrows for shelter_.’ Oh my god, this explains everything! He’s so bad at climbing that he uses his repulsor boots to get to the top shelf! And no wonder he loves his workshop, it’s practically an underground burrow.”

That really did explain a lot of things. Steve didn’t like to stereotype based on animal shifts, but it was unusual to see a cat shifter be so bad at climbing.

Rhodey pointed out, “You bring that up to him at your own risk.”

“You’re more like a protective mama bear than an eagle,” Sam laughed.

“I’m just saying—”

J.A.R.V.I.S. interrupted their brewing squabble and announced, “Sir will be up shortly and has advised that he will be accepting no pats or cuddles for the time-being, but will be willing to join the standard post-battle team meal.”

“So he’ll be open for pats and cuddles at a later stage?” Natasha surmised aloud, voicing Steve’s exact thoughts, although Steve was less speculative and more excited at the prospect.

“What does he want for food? We can put in an order,” Bruce offered as he rubbed the base of his goat’s horns in a nervous tic.

“Sir said he will sort out his own meal.”

Clint spoke up, a little suspicious, “Wait a minute, you don’t usually translate in that much detail for us, J.A.R.V.I.S.. Do you understand Tony more or— Oh my god, is he typing this out? Does he have a cat keyboard with keys for his little cat paws?”

J.A.R.V.I.S. sounded prim as he responded, “I cannot confirm or deny the existence of such a keyboard.”

“Which means it exists, this is the best thing I’ve heard all month, I need photos, it’s so cute I could die.” Clint was clutching at his chest like he was overwhelmed with feelings.

The elevator door opened at that moment and Tony, in his small cat form, stalked out.

The Avengers, mighty warriors and defenders of Earth, froze like mice sensing a predator. Their conversation cut off abruptly, and they held their breaths. Tony walked across the room, and Steve took in the opportunity to drink in the sight of the unfamiliar furry body.

No wonder Tony never shifted in front of anyone, not if he wanted to keep his secret. Tony’s shift could never pass as a domestic cat. It wasn’t just his unusual size, which was smaller than any housecat, but his build and coloring gave him away as a Wilder. His large, rounded ears and wide golden eyes combined with his round face and small muzzle made him look undeniably cute, but his stocky, muscular body that stalked forward with a predatory grace did not look like any known domestic cat. The dark spots across that beautiful tawny coat were additional giveaways to Tony’s Wilder roots.

With great restraint, Steve did _not_ shift and go over to sniff Tony all over. Instead, he just held still as Tony came to a stop a few feet away from Steve and glared right up at him. Steve remembered the last time he saw Tony, how Tony had flown away in his armor in something of a huff, and that was enough to break him out of his trance.

“What I said earlier, it wasn’t about you. Or rather, it wasn’t completely about you,” Steve cut himself off under the unimpressed amber gaze and took a deep breath. He tried again. “I wanted to move any further conversations outside of the public eye. I wasn’t sure if you were fine with civilians potentially photographing you while you were shifted or eavesdropping on what we said. That’s all I meant. You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to. Right, everyone?”

The others chimed in with their hasty agreements.

“Talking is overrated,” Natasha said, her large ears and tail completely still as she looked out of the window as if in disinterest.

Bruce shrugged as he rubbed at his right horn. “I’m just hungry right now, I would rather eat instead.”

“I don’t know what we need to talk about beyond addressing the existence of a little keyboard that— Ow!” Clint was cut off by Bucky’s elbow to his side.

Tony’s penetrating eyes held Steve’s gaze for a few more slow heartbeats before Tony blinked slowly and looked down, grooming a paw with a few careful licks. Then, without looking directly at any one of them, he got up and weaved pass their legs with deliberate purpose, rubbing cheek and body against each person. Steve’s heart skipped a beat and his tail wagged once when he felt that slight body push against his shin, head butting briefly against Steve before Tony moved on. When Tony gave Rhodey’s leg a particularly determined cheek-rub, Rhodey let out a snort of amusement.

“Yeah, yeah, we get the point, Tony,” Rhodey said, which only resulted in Tony pushing the side of his entire body against Rhodey’s legs, tail twining around his calf briefly before he stalked off to the kitchen.

“What was the point?” Clint whispered, like that would ensure Tony didn’t hear him.

“That we’re all still his,” Rhodey pointed out at a normal volume. Tony meowed loudly from the kitchen, as if in agreement.

Steve edged into the kitchen, surprised to see the fridge door already ajar and a small cleaning bot climbing into the fridge with spindly legs that had popped out from its sides, looking like a spider-bot. Tony sat in front of the open fridge, tail swishing back and forth slowly. When the cleaning bot popped back out of the fridge, it had a package of fresh salmon gripped between two front legs as it scuttled to the ground. Tony meowed in approval and climbed onto the cleaning bot’s back, his small frame fitting snugly on top. He clung on to the sides with his claws as the cleaning bot carefully climbed a chair before manoeuvring itself onto the dining table, allowing Tony to step off easily. Then the bot opened the package of salmon before laying it in front of Tony.

The cleaning bots had always been multifunctional, often helping all of them when they were shifted with tasks that required more dexterity. But Steve realized now that they must be designed to help with Tony’s climbing difficulties specifically too.

Everyone settled into the usual arguments over what food to order. When the delivery arrived, they joined Tony at the dining table. He had been waiting primly with his salmon and ate with dainty nibbles once they got settled in with their individual meals as well. Once he was done with his salmon, he licked his paws and groomed his whiskers fastidiously. Then he stared at Rhodey unblinkingly until Rhodey rolled his eyes and dropped a few pieces of chicken into the now-empty salmon package. Tony gave a meow of appreciation and chowed that down too. 

The message was loud and clear. Nothing different, nothing to see here. Regardless of the recent reveal, nothing had changed.

# # # # # #

The spell wore off after 24 hours, but that didn’t matter because it was like Tony’s cat side had been unleashed. Tony was in his furs all the time, twining around legs and rubbing cheeks against hands. There must be something particularly satisfying about marking people as a cat, because it felt like Steve saw more of Tony’s feline shape rather than his humanoid form. In many ways, Tony’s interaction with them remained very similar even when he was on four legs instead. He would rub a cheek against Clint but nimbly avoid Clint’s attempts to pat him. He would still take naps in the best sunny patch in Steve’s art room, either in cat or human shape. He would still hiss at anyone who put the coffee grounds down the sink’s disposal.

But there was also some brand new behavior from Tony that they didn’t expect. 

Case in point, Steve wandered into the common area to see if there was anyone around and found Rhodey on the couch. This would be perfectly normal except Rhodey was in his eagle form and he was all fluffed up, like he was trying to keep extra warm and toasty in the cool winds. That would make more sense if the Tower wasn’t perfectly temperature controlled. Steve cocked his head in confusion and headed to the kitchen for a drink, exchanging a greeting with Bruce who was buttering a slice of toast. Coming back out with a bottle of fresh orange juice, Steve looked closer at Rhodey. Where Steve’s eyes didn’t pick out anything of use, his nose told him a different story. From amidst Rhodey’s avian scent of greenery and high winds, there was the familiar thread of coffee and metal and enticing warmth.

“Tony?” Steve said uncertainly, wondering where Tony was hiding. Even though his scent was coming from the couch, he was nowhere to be seen on it. Surely Tony would never do anything as undignified as hide under the couch?

There was a small ‘mrr’ sound and a little cat face poked out from under Rhodey’s right wing. Tony’s eyes were slitted in unmistakeable pleasure from the cosy heat under Rhodey’s wing. Leaning out a bit more, Tony started licking at Rhodey’s chest feathers, grooming them lazily. Rhodey gave Tony a long-suffering stare, but allowed the grooming.

In his human form, Tony didn’t like much constant physical contact with the rest of the team and he certainly didn’t cuddle with Rhodey on the couch, so this was a surprise for Steve. He tried to stifle the cresting tide of jealousy he felt at the sight of Rhodey and Tony cuddled so close. Why wouldn’t Tony cuddle with Steve again, particularly when they were both awake? Steve gave really great hugs and he could be very warm as well, especially if he changed into his dog form. And— and if Tony wanted to groom Steve, it would be the highest honor, Steve wouldn’t look long-suffering at all!

Steve realized his tail was drooping between his legs and forced it to curl up stiffly, pretending he was fine, completely fine, he didn’t desperately want to know what he needed to do to earn Tony’s trust and affection. 

“That’s just too much,” Natasha murmured, having snuck up behind Steve on silent feet from the staircase beside the kitchen that led down from their training rooms and offices.

She had her phone out and tilted it so Steve could see the screen. She had snuck a quick picture of Tony and Rhodey on the couch, and despite Steve’s jealousy, he had to admit that it was a very cute photo. Rhodey looked incredibly fluffed up for an eagle, with one wing slightly raised to accommodate Tony, who looked very snug where he was with only his small slit-eyed face visible.

It was adorable, unbearably so. Steve couldn’t help but feel his tail droop again as he wondered what he needed to do to get Tony to like him as much as Rhodey.

Tony let out a long ‘miaaoow’, always surprisingly loud and low for such a small body, and inched out from under Rhodey’s wing. Rhodey started preening his feathers immediately, as if trying to correct whatever Tony’s grooming had gotten wrong. On the couch in front of Rhodey, Tony stretched luxuriantly, body bent low and drawing out like fur-covered taffy. He stretched his front paws out as far as they would go and kicked out a back leg, flexing each claw. Then he rubbed a cheek against Rhodey’s chest, ruffling his feathers again which made Rhodey prod Tony in the side with his beak. Tony batted Rhodey on the beak gently with a paw and hopped off the couch, letting out a short “mrrp” sound.

Almost as if by pure happenstance, completely unrelated to their presence, Tony meandered his way around the room. The sight of his cat form was still enough of a novelty that Natasha and Steve couldn’t help but watch quietly as he rubbed his side against the low table, the couch, the table again, and finally, without ever looking at them, rubbed a cheek against Natasha before winding around her to brush up against Steve too. Steve knew his tail was up in the air, wagging with growing enthusiasm. Natasha’s fox tail was held up in the air as well, confident and pleased, but she was too well-controlled to start wagging.

Then Tony flopped down on the thick carpet in front of Steve and lay on his side. He lifted one paw in the air, twisting his spine, and looked straight at Steve.

Oh no, oh no, Steve knew it was a trap. He knew immediately, it had to be a trap. Tony’s exposed stomach was all golden fluff with beautiful dark spots, invitingly plush. Steve just knew that fluffy belly would be so soft to the touch…

“Don’t do it,” Natasha said in a low voice, warning. “You know it’s a trap.”

Bruce walked out from the kitchen and asked curiously, “What’s a trap?” He stopped when he saw the temptation laid out in front of Steve. “Oh no, that is definitely a trap.”

Steve did know it was a trap. He did. But Tony let out a soft ‘mrrp’ and turned further onto his back, golden eyes tracking away to the ceiling like he wasn’t even paying attention, like he completely trusted them, and wouldn’t mind at all if…if…

Steve bent down and gently, so gently, rubbed the golden soft belly. It was pure heaven, his fingers running through silky fluff that felt like the finest, most luxurious fur that his skin would ever experience.

Heaven ended in three seconds, when all ten claws attached themselves onto Steve’s hand in warning. Steve froze. He looked up and met amber eyes. The claws on Tony’s front paws dug in briefly, drawing pinpricks of blood, before Tony let go and twisted out from beneath Steve’s touch. He stalked off to the kitchen, tail held high in the air.

“Oh, Steve, how badly did he get you?” Natasha asked with a laugh.

Steve straightened and looked at his hand with the ten tiny marks left behind by Tony’s claws. They didn’t hurt and would heal completely in less than a minute. “It was worth it.” Steve grinned at her, squeezing his hand in memory of that pure heavenly fur.

“You’re an idiot,” Natasha said, shaking her head and picking up his hand for a look. “But he must really like you since he didn’t even leave actual scratches behind.”

“Latching on with his claws is a sign that Tony likes him?” Bruce asked, a little incredulous.

Steve barely heard Bruce. Natasha made a really good point and it made Steve’s heart skip a beat in realization.

“Latching on and hardly doing anything,” Steve pointed out, almost a little proudly, because he knew enough about cat shifters to know how they were like. “It could be a lot worse.”

Bruce laughed and shook his head. “I think I need to spend more time with cat shifters in their cat forms to get it.”

“Anyone want some coffee?” Tony called from the kitchen, probably shifting when they hadn’t been looking.

Even though Steve had no real interest in coffee, he responded with, “Yes, please!” and followed Tony into the kitchen, tail wagging in delight.

He thought he heard Natasha murmuring, “You’re both idiots,” and Bruce’s agreement. But he was too distracted by that point to really pay attention.


	5. Tony

Tony had been carrying this secret for years and years, ever since he first shifted as a teenager and realized he had taken after Maria’s black-footed cat form rather than Howard’s domestic cat shift. For so many years, he had the nagging worry in the back of his mind that someone would spot him one day when he was careless and the secret would be out, yet he had never expected his shift to be revealed in such a dramatic way, in the middle of a fight, out in the open, photographed by nosy civilians. But really, what did he expect? His life had been a long series of drama after drama.

The reveal caused a lot of turmoil for Stark Industries and he had been inundated with requests for interviews to clear up all the speculations and rumors, all of which he ignored. He was determined at the moment not to reward any pestering and was waiting for the fervor to die down a little before he talked to the press. It wasn’t the easiest of times right now. But despite the stress all around, there was also a lot of relief to have his true shift be known by more than Pepper, Rhodey and Happy. He didn’t have to hide who he was anymore. Sure, even with his shift revealed, he still hadn’t immediately joined the recent rough and tumble game that had spontaneously broken out last night among the team, but at least he didn’t have to stay in his human form and give weak excuses for why he didn’t participate. Instead, he had shifted into his cat shape and hung out on a counter, watching the proceedings and taking random swipes at any roughhousing bodies that came within reach. It had been pretty fun.

He didn’t even need to be in his cat form to feel the difference. Just being able to talk about it was something of a novelty. Like the casual conversation he was currently having with Steve, as they reviewed the fight with the Enchantress in his workshop. While probably not entirely professional, they had set up the viewing session like it was their private theatre. They were seated on the same comfortable couch where they had shared a nap once, a huge bowl of caramelized popcorn propped up between them. The video of the fight was projected against a massive white screen pulled down from the ceiling. J.A.R.V.I.S. had helpfully spliced together all the videos from their individual cameras in their suits as well as any relevant videos caught on traffic cams, to make what could have been an Oscar-winning movie with a raw and gritty storyline about battling large animals that used to be vehicles, all stunts done by the cast with no special effects. If the Academy Awards allowed nominations of Artificial Intelligences, J.A.R.V.I.S. would surely have won Best Director by now.

Tony realized his attention had strayed a little and dragged it back to focus on the battle they were reviewing. He put his hand into their shared bowl for more popcorn, brushing against Steve’s as he extracted his own.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., please note that more practice is needed for that move Thor and Nat just pulled. She almost slipped there when leaping off his hammer,” Steve said aloud between crunching on popcorn.

“Note number eight, recorded,” J.A.R.V.I.S. responded.

Tony frowned as the same scene was repeated from a different angle. “Maybe I need to add something to her boots, something with increased friction.”

“You should speak to her first, increased friction on her soles might be an issue in other situations,” Steve pointed out.

“Who doesn’t want more grip for their shoes? Yes, yes, I’ll speak to her anyway, I know she doesn’t like surprises,” Tony said with a wave of his hand.

“Note number nine, Sir to speak to Miss Romanov before experimenting on her shoes to avoid being murdered in his sleep, recorded,” J.A.R.V.I.S. piped up.

Tony rolled his eyes and muttered through his mouthful of popcorn, “You think you’re so funny.”

“I do, Sir, thank you for noticing,” J.A.R.V.I.S. said primly.

Steve let out a short bark of laughter, not even trying to hide it, and Tony ignored him even as one ear swiveled towards the sound of that bright amusement.

They continued watching the video in silence for the next couple minutes until it reached the part where Tony, still in his Iron Man suit, got zapped by the Enchantress.

“So, you were turned into your cat form at this point?” Steve asked, obviously trying to keep his voice casual.

Tony nodded, cleaning his fingers with his tongue to try to soothe some of his anxiety. While it was a relief to be able to talk about his cat form, it still took some getting used to. “Yeah, she had already forced my shift at that time, I just didn’t show it yet.”

The Iron Man armor bobbed and weaved on the screen, and Tony winced before adding, “Not completely anyway.”

“It’s amazing that you’re able to control the suit at all as a cat,” Steve pointed out, matter-of-fact. “I’m glad you thought about it and prepared beforehand. I saw something like a harness in the armor to hold you up in your cat form, which was pretty smart.”

Tony groomed the back of his ears, preening a little under the praise. “Well, it’s obviously something I had to consider once I realized that the Enchantress had the ability to force a shift. It was only a matter of time before she hit me, so I designed the nanotech to be able to shape the harness quickly should J.A.R.V.I.S. sense the shift coming across me while I was still in the armor. Too bad I don’t have better control over the armor in my cat form.”

Steve crunched on his popcorn thoughtfully and suggested, “You probably just need more training in your armor while you’re in your cat form. You haven’t had time to practise much with the team and fight against real life opponents while you’re Iron Cat.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Tony grumbled, even as he got a sudden flash of an idea, an image of a very small red and gold armor, and how he would achieve it...

Steve’s next words interrupted that developing idea.  

“Do you—” Steve hesitated, before persevering with his question, “Do you mind letting me know why you didn’t tell the team about your form? I mean, I know it’s private and you aren’t obliged to tell us.” Steve rushed to assure him. “But at the same time, you knew that the Enchantress could force a shift on you, and it was only a matter of time before you got hit, as you said.”

Tony looked down at the bowl of popcorn rather than meet Steve’s steady blue gaze. While Steve was clearly sincere about how the shift was private and Tony hadn’t been obliged to tell them, it was also obvious that Steve felt hurt that Tony hadn’t shared this part of himself with them, had lied by omission by letting them assume the same thing as everyone else in the world. And Steve feeling hurt was for good reason too, considering how close the team had been getting and how much time they all spent together.

Tony chose his words carefully. “I should have told you. It’s not a matter of feeling obliged, because it’s not about obligations. We’re a team and a team should know these things. It’s not the kind of surprise I should spring on you in the middle of a battlefield.”

Steve let out a huff. “I wasn’t trying to berate you, Tony.”

“I know you’re not,” Tony said, turning on the couch and tucking his leg under him. He took a deep breath. “I didn’t tell you because… Do you know how many people knew about my real shift? In the whole world, alive and dead?” Tony held up one open hand, fingers spread wide, and held up the thumb of his other hand too. “Six. Six people; My dad, mom, Obie, Pepper, Rhodey and Happy. Out of that, three are dead so only Pepper, Rhodey and Happy know my real shift. Not even my personal doctors know.”

A confused wrinkle creased Steve’s brow. “But… why? Who would treat you if you were injured in your animal form?”

“Rhodey or myself. Fortunately, I’ve never sustained a major injury in my animal form, probably because I don’t stay in that form much. You know how some people instinctively shift into their animal forms when surprised or when badly injured? I never did, not once, not even in the caves with a gaping hole in my chest, which probably saved me. Because that had been drilled into me ever since I first shifted. Never let anyone know, that’s what Howard said.”

Steve’s ears drooped and his tail twitched, probably wanting to tuck between his legs if he hadn’t been sitting down. “So Howard taught you to hide who you were.”

“Yes, and of all the things he did, I can’t say he was completely wrong about this one,” Tony said with a short disgruntled hiss that he had to agree with Howard on anything. “I don’t think he was completely right either, but his intentions were in the right place at least. He knew that the world wouldn’t treat a Wilder in a corporate position well, especially a Wilder that is, shall we say, challenged in the stature department.”

Tony scowled as he said the last bit, glaring at Steve who only hid his mouth behind a raised hand, pretending to stuff popcorn into his face when he was probably laughing at Tony. At least his ears didn’t look so droopy and sad anymore.

“I still think he shouldn’t have told you to do that,” Steve said, shaking his head.

“Well…Howard knew how people are when it comes to Wilders, the bullshit people say. Hell, even mom…she was where I got my shift from. She had a black-footed cat form and the shift tends to inherit true for offsprings from her family line. She used to say that it was up to me if I wanted to tell the world, because she didn’t care, she never did care much for what people thought. But she also said if people wanted to make assumptions about my shift instead of considering all the possibilities, that was on them,” Tony explained, before admitting, a little quietly, “I mean, they’ve both been gone for decades, but I still kept my shift a secret, so a big part of me must agree with them.”

“It was the only life you knew,” Steve pointed out.

Tony flicked his tail. “Maybe so. Anyway, that’s why. I got used to not revealing my shift to anyone, not talking about it. But now it’s in the open, and you’re right, I should train more in that form.”

But Steve wasn’t allowing the easy subject change. He looked at Tony from beneath his thick lashes, a little wary, and said, “I was looking up black-footed cats online…”

On one hand, Tony worried about what else Steve found out about him online, but on the other hand, he couldn’t help but mentally purr at the idea that Steve was curious about him.

“Whatever terrible thing it is you found, I’m probably guilty as charged,” Tony said flippantly, trying to brazen through the discomfort he felt from talking about his shift when he had never done so before.

“I didn’t find anything terrible, and even if I did, I wouldn’t believe it,” Steve said with an eye-roll, which was kind of adorable and sweet. He continued, “I read that black-footed cats are loners that seek refuge at the slightest disturbance.” Steve wasn’t quite asking a question, but stating it in a way that made it clear to Tony that he was hoping for an answer. It was the kind of non-question that allowed Tony to brush right by it if he didn’t want to talk about it. But Tony figured he owed Steve this much.

“And you would be right,” Tony confirmed.

Steve’s fluffy tail drooped, hanging limp against the couch. Even his ears drooped again, just when they had been starting to perk up, and Tony wanted so bad to grab Steve by the cheeks and groom those silly floppy ears until they were standing up and cheerful, the usual alert position they should always be in. Tony stomped down on the urge, because he might be a Wilder, but he wasn’t a slave to his instincts, not like what so many people said about Wilders. He wondered what had gotten Steve so down suddenly, enough for his usually calm façade to crack.

“Oh… So it must be hard on you to spend time with the team,” Steve commented in a quiet voice, and Tony realized where the problem lay.

Nudging his knee against Steve’s, Tony said, “No, it doesn’t apply to you— the team. I don’t always like spending time with people I’m not close to, even if I’m always good at being the life of the party and ensuring everyone has a night to remember. But the team is different. You guys aren’t just…anyone, alright? You’re different.”

“That’s…good to hear,” Steve said, his body language perking up again. His ears lifted up, fluffy tips folded a little instead of being completely droopy, and his tail started a slow thump against the couch.

“If you’re reading up on black-footed cats, don’t believe everything you read. The animal characteristics don’t always transfer to shifters,” Tony reminded. “Which, well, I guess you already know, considering your own situation.”

Steve drew back a little and frowned at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“You don’t exactly embody the stereotypical characteristics people expect from dog shifters.”

“Some people would disagree with that,” Steve said wryly, but Tony noticed that he wasn’t contradicting what Tony said.

“Some people are idiots,” Tony scoffed, catching his own twitching tail to give it a good finger combing. “They only see what’s on the surface, like the alert ears and bright eyes, and assume you must be a bouncy cheerful pup all the time.”

Steve watched him with said bright eyes and asked with a small smile, “And what do you see instead?”

For a moment, Tony was about to throw out a glib response, brush off the question with a quip or five. But he saw the curiosity and quiet attention in Steve’s steady gaze, and all of a sudden, in a rare flash of clarity, Tony realized that a brush-off would disappoint Steve. And that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“People think all dog shifters are friends with everyone, let anyone close to them, and when they see your boyish smiles, they think you’re the same,” Tony started off, ignoring the way Steve raised his eyebrows at that last bit. “But you don’t actually trust easily and you don’t let people close to you. You’re slow to open up, so your circle of close friends is a small one, and you’re not eager to socialize with people outside of that circle. People think that as Captain America and a dog shifter, you must be fine when it comes to talking to the media but you actually hate it. You hate doing those Public Service Announcement videos for schools, but you put on your best public smile so that no one knows any better. You aren’t endlessly cheerful and happy, in fact, you can be an irritable grump some days, especially when it’s cold or when things don’t go according to plan.”

“Thanks,” Steve said with heavy sarcasm, but the quirk to his lips said he didn’t disagree with this assessment.

Tony continued blithely, “One clichéd dog shifter characteristic you do have in spades is your loyalty. Once someone has earned your loyalty, they have it for life and you will stand with them and stick up for them through the best and worst of it all. It’s one of your most irritatingly admirable traits.”

To Tony’s surprise, those last words actually made Steve shift as if discomfited. Tony could even see that the insides of Steve’s ears had turned a darker pink, the blush showing a little around his neck as well.

“Are you blushing?” Tony crowed. “I don’t think that’s a typical dog characteristic either.”

Ignoring his own signs of embarrassment, Steve tried to brazen it out with a light-hearted retort, “Well, I didn’t expect you to gush all over me, Tony.”

Tony sniffed. “I was just stating some facts, it was hardly gushing.”

Steve rubbed the back of his own ear with some embarrassment, before looking over at Tony with a sly smile. “While we’re stating facts, I read that black-footed cats are extremely fierce fighters, and that they are very brave creatures. Factually, that sounds true to form for you.”

Tony let out a little surprised ‘mrp’ of pleasure, and then coughed, trying to cover it up with a hasty and haughty agreement. “I mean, yes, of course. No one would dispute my fierceness.”

“They really wouldn’t,” Steve said with a grin. “Just like how they wouldn’t dispute the part about black-footed cats being bad at climbing.”

Tony’s ears flattened. “I can climb.”

“Sure, you can.”

“I can climb when I want to climb, I just don’t climb much because I’m human and it’s a pointless activity for humans.”

“Does an upwards motion with repulsor boots on count as climbing?” Steve asked with a faux-innocent grin.

“I’m just using the tools available to me,” Tony said with a huff. “Let’s get back to the fight reviews.”

Steve laughed and said, “Alright, let’s get back to that, leave your other skills aside…for now.”

Tony groaned and sank deeper into the couch, trying to ignore Steve’s teasing and pay attention to the video on the screen. If he leaned a little closer to Steve, breathed in their mingled scents a little, no one needed to know.

# # # # # #

Why did he think this would be a good idea? Why couldn’t his brain let things go for once? Noooo, the moment he heard those teasing words fall from Steve’s lips, then his brain was going, ‘ _Why not?_ ’ and trying to figure out how to make it happen.

Theoretically, it wasn’t a bad idea. There was sound reasoning to try this out.

Practically? Worst idea ever.

“Miiiiiiiiiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaoooooooooooowwwwwwwwwww,” Tony screamed, careening through the air.

“Sir, I don’t know what you mean, please attempt to communicate in a calmer manner so I may assist,” J.A.R.V.I.S. said, sounding a little frantic which was unusual in and of itself.

But Tony couldn’t communicate more calmly, because he was too busy yowling as he flew erratically through the air, four limbs flailing and tail lashing. In his cat form, with his red and gold armor formed into a _petite_ cat armor to wrap around him snugly, Tony was trying to learn how to fly all over again. And apparently, learning to fly as a cat was a very bad idea.

Tony loved to fly as Iron Man, loved the soaring adrenaline and the breathtaking freedom as he cut through the skies and looked down on his glittering city. The flights and heights were wonderful when he was in human form and in Iron Man, but apparently, it was a whole different story when he was in his feline shape. He loved flying _despite_ his shifter nature, not because of it. The black-footed cat wasn’t a climber, wasn’t one for heights. They liked to burrow more than they liked being up in the air. With all the senses of a black-footed cat at the forefront, apparently the idea of his paws not touching the ground for an extended amount of time and having to move using the repulsors was all very, very disorientating. It was enough to make Tony feel almost nauseous, which he had never experienced before in his suit, not even when he first wore it.

Telling himself that he was absolutely not going to throw up in his cat armor, Tony hissed and threw his front paws out instinctively, trying to stop his tumbling forward momentum. But his paws weren’t angled quite right and he ended up being thrown backwards, somersaulting through the air.

“Miiiaaaaaooww,” Tony cried mournfully, flailing his paws again to try to stop the dizzying motion. All that did was slow the incredible speed he was going at, but also sent him into a diagonal spin which was even more confusing. How did he stop—

He bodily slammed into something, which managed to stop his flight abruptly.

“Oof!”

Familiar arms had instinctively wrapped around his armored body and Tony let himself go limp in relief, knowing he could always trust himself in his honeybird’s hands.

“Tony, what the hell?” Rhodey asked, turning Tony right side up and lifting him up. “Is this a new toy? You could have hit me in the head, you maniac. Hey, where are you?”

“Meow,” Tony said mournfully.

Rhodey’s eyes widened as he registered where that sound came from. “Oh my god, Tony? Are you… You’re in the suit? You’re in your cat form in a little Iron Man cat suit? This is the fucking cutest thing I have ever seen.”

“Meow!” Tony protested.

“Yeah, tough luck, your little Iron Man suit has little cat ears and an adorable articulated tail. You’re cute, you’re officially Iron Cute,” Rhodey said with a grin, patting one nickel-titanium alloy ear.

Tony’s armor-encased paw came up to bat at Rhodey’s hand. His regular Iron Man suit’s helmet was rounded, with no cat ears, but had enough space to fold his ears back comfortably in it. But he found the helmet for the cat armor proportionally much smaller and when made in a rounded shape, his ears were squashed flat and were really uncomfortable. He couldn’t imagine undergoing the experience for extended periods of time. The other option was to make the helmet bigger, but he looked like a bobble-headed cat-shaped toy instead. So he had put cat ears in his cat armor and told himself that the cat form was the peak evolution design, and those ears served a great purpose. The suit having cat ears as well meant superior aural sensors which could be further boosted with his state of the art software. That was what Tony repeated to himself when he had looked at the admittedly adorable little Iron Man cat armor.

Grumbling under his breath in tiny ‘meows’, Tony butted his head gently against Rhodey’s chest, rubbing his face into the dark green cotton shirt. It was a bit irritating to know that his scent was trapped in his armor with him, rather than marking Rhodey clearly as _his_. But performing the motions made him feel better anyway, especially after such a harrowing flight lesson.

Rhodey held Tony a little further from his torso and said, “You’re in a metal armor, Tony. Even if you’re very adorable like this, you’re not exactly soft or comfortable with the suit on. Stop headbutting me with it.”

 _I’m sorry, peaches, I wouldn’t want to bruise your delicate skin_ , Tony said, although it only came out as a particularly snarky, “Miaaow.”

“Even I can tell that was some sort of insult,” Rhodey said in amusement, not at all perturbed at being insulted. He walked over to a clear workbench and set Tony down gently in the middle of the work table.

Rhodey put his hands on his hips and eyed Tony. “So, what brought this on?”

Tony sat there in his suit, bringing a paw up to his mouth before he remembered that he couldn’t groom it and feign nonchalance. Fuck it, why couldn’t he still do that? He was Tony Stark, he could do whatever he wanted. He thought hard — controlling his nanites was harder in this form — and the helmet slid open. Tony brought his gauntleted paw up to his muzzle and licked it like he was grooming a regular paw. Blech, it was cold. And tasted a bit like burnt bread, possibly from the repulsor blasts.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Rhodey pointed out with a huff. “Your paw is still in the armor.”

But Tony ignored him. There were benefits to being in his cat shift, despite the flying difficulties. For one thing, he didn’t have to explain how this started because Steve had made a joke about “Iron Cat” and that had stayed in Tony’s mind until he had designed a cat armor, thought of all the things that needed to be done to make it real, and tried to come up with something snappier than Iron Cat.

“Is that a new line of toys?”

Both Rhodey and Tony turned, eyes snapping straight to the entrance of the workshop at the sound of Natasha’s voice. She stood right inside the entrance, along with Steve and Thor. Great, they almost had the whole team here to witness Tony’s embarrassment.

“Oh, it’s better than any toy,” Rhodey replied, laughter in his voice.

With Tony turned towards the entrance, they could finally see his face with his helmet opened and tell that it was most definitely not just a toy on the table.

Natasha’s lips curved up. “Tony, I didn’t expect this.”

“It is Feline of Iron, what a delight to see you in your cat form _and_ armor,” Thor said, his grin indicating that the delight was mostly going to result in a lot of jokes at Tony’s expense.

Tony sighed, which was a lot harder to do in cat form.

The others walked into the workshop, Steve leading the way. He said with a smile, “It’s nice to meet you, Iron Cat.”

“Miaaoow,” Tony said, rolling his eyes extravagantly so they didn’t miss the reaction.

Steve came up to the table where Tony was sitting, reaching out slowly to trace one metal-clad paw. “The amount of detail on such a small suit is amazing.”

Tony squinted at Steve, trying to figure out if this was a backhanded compliment. Was Steve teasing Tony about his size? He was smiling and his tail was up, but it was really hard to figure out when Steve was indulging in his inner-troll sometimes.

Looking over at the sudden number of people in his workshop, Tony wondered what they were all doing here. Rhodey and Steve coming to visit him weren’t unusual. But it was unusual to see all of them, including Thor and Nat, visiting him at the same time. He was suddenly suspicious.

Tony pointed a nose at Rhodey, and “Meowed” authoritatively. Then he pointed his nose at the remaining three visitors.  

“I believe Sir is asking what you are all doing down here?” J.A.R.V.I.S. helpfully translated, now more capable of doing that when Tony wasn’t just swearing and yowling.

“Ah, maybe we can discuss this later,” Thor said, unusually diplomatic.

“Pepper called and she’s worried about all the gossip around your shift,” Rhodey said bluntly, but with compassion in his gaze. Tony preferred this, knew Rhodey would get to the heart of the matter and avoid unnecessary prevaricating.

Natasha gestured at something Steve was holding at his side in one hand. “And we were out having afternoon tea when we came across the Daily Bugle, being given out for free.”

Of course, because no one would pay for that trash. Steve spread the newspaper out in front of Tony on the workbench, wincing a little at the sensationalist headlines going, _“Ex-CEO of Stark Industries a Wild Animal?”_ There was speculation around Tony’s true shifted form, overdramatic shock about how his shift couldn't possibly be one of a domestic cat, as previously assumed. A quick scan of the article was enough for Tony to pick up on the negative slant and how it was questioning Tony’s past leadership and current role in Stark Industries if he really was a Wilder.

Tony had known this was coming from the day he had been forced into a shift in public. The photos of Tony’s cat form were everywhere, with clear shots of Tony’s muzzle and ears, the markings on his coat, his comparative size; the overall picture that came together was a recognizable wild feline rather than the domestic cat everyone assumed.

While there was no going back now, no way to hide it anymore; that didn’t mean Tony had to worry about it right now. His friends had come here immediately, concerned about all the rumors and gossip going around. But Tony would prefer not to talk about it at all, and in fact, would prefer for them not to spend any time worrying about this. It wasn’t a big deal in the end. Tony could handle it. He could always handle it when it came to the press and public perception. Nothing they did or say could be worse than the headlines of his scandals from his twenties.

Right at this moment, he had other things to consider. He was in an Iron Cat — the name was sticking damnit — armor which he had no clue how to pilot. It was possible that he would never learn to fly this suit, not gracefully or easily, which would mean that it was likely to be more of a liability than of help, unless he just needed some serious short term defence when in cat form and didn’t have a full size suit nearby.

So he might have spent a cool fifty million dollars making an Iron Cat suit that would not be of much use to him. Except right at this moment, he had just the perfect idea of what he could do with it. Tony drew up and pointed one gauntleted paw at the newspaper. He flexed his claws.

A small bright blue repulsor blast streaked from his paw and smashed into the Daily Bugle newspaper on the table, setting it on fire immediately. The whole newspaper was consumed in a bright blue flame that burned hot and fast until the papers were in ashes in just a few seconds.

“Holy shit,” Rhodey exclaimed, the feathers on his neck flaring as he let out a small laugh. “That suit still packs a punch.”

Taking a cue on how Tony wanted to handle the news, Steve said contemplatively, “I wonder how much damage this suit can dole out.”

“To the gym!” Thor cried out with excitement.

They all exchanged a look and smiled.

“To the gym,” Steve agreed.

Tony let out a short _meow_ and Rhodey tactfully picked him up, having been the only one to witness the earlier attempts at flight. “I’ve got you, buddy,” Rhodey said under his breath.

Tucking his paws in, Tony purred, knowing that yes, Rhodey did have him. Not just Rhodey, but his whole team. They all had his back, and that was what it was like to have a team, a family. As long as he had them, he wasn’t worried about what the press and people outside the tower walls had to say about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, picture a small tawny cat face, little dark stripes on his cheeks, surrounded by flashy red and gold armor, complete with little red cat ears and a swaying articulated tail. Cute right?? Or is that just me? I just really like little cat Tony in armor hahaha…


	6. Tony

Tony really hated magic. Oh sure, he’d loved many science-fiction and fantasy books when he was growing up, but magic in the practical sense, in the real world, was always a pain in the ass. This time, it was some wizard who had a grudge against Strange, who Tony was going to think of as Strange just on principle. He didn’t care about Strange’s years as a surgeon, what superhero went around introducing themselves as _Doctor_ Strange? What a pompous asshole. Tony had five PhDs and Bruce had seven, but you didn’t see them calling themselves Doctor Iron Man and Doctor Hulk. Anyway, some wizard got angry at another wizard, and there was a big fight in the middle of New York. The Avengers had turned up and ended up being transported all the way to North Dakota, according to Tony’s satellites.

None of them were dressed for fucking North Dakota’s snow and sub-zero temperatures. But Clint, who was lying unconscious in a snow drift, was the worst off. He had been hit on the head right before the moving portal had enveloped them and spat them out here. 

“We have to shift. Not you, Hulk, we know you can’t, and you’re radiating heat anyway,” Steve said loudly, gritting his teeth against the biting wind. “The rest of us will be warmer in our furs and if we huddle together over there.”

He pointed at a large tree, and it would have to do because there wasn’t anything but trees around. Steve had chosen the largest tree to shelter against and he was right in what they should do next, but they still had the problem of an unconscious Clint. Natasha was by his side, fingers against the pulse on his neck.

“Hulk hates snow,” Hulk grumbled as he poked disgruntledly at the snow with his foot. 

Natasha looked up with worry in her eyes. “He’s not waking up, but I think he was just knocked unconscious by that last blow to his head. The problem is the cold. And that out of all of us, he’s _really_ not dressed for the weather.”

“We need to do something about his vanity and get him some _sleeves_ ,” Tony grumped as he opened his faceplate, hating the stark cold against his face compared to how warm the rest of his body was within his armor. Especially when he knew what he had to do.

“You’re one to talk, your pants aren’t that tight by accident,” Natasha pointed out with raised eyebrows.

“Have you been looking at my _assets_?” Tony asked, putting a hand on a provocatively cocked hip, the pose probably looking fairly ridiculous in the Iron Man suit. 

“Not the time, both of you,” Steve said. “If we all took to our furs and curled around Clint…”

Tony sighed. “You should be glad that none of us have reptilian shifts. Alright, I’ve got a plan. Let’s move him to the tree first.”

Thor knelt down and gently put his arms beneath Clint. “I’ll move our shieldbrother.”

“I’m going to tell Hawkass he was princess-carried by the Prince of Asgard, and he didn’t even get to enjoy it,” Tony said, snapping his faceplate back down and clomping over to the designated tree.

Thor cheerfully responded, “I will be happy to repeat this when he is conscious once more.”

“Of course you would.”

“What’s the plan, Iron Man?” Steve asked, staying by his side.

“The lowest risk is to warm Clint up as much as we can, since he’s the only one unconscious who can’t shift into his furs or even indicate if he feels a toe is about to fall off,” Tony explained as they came up to the thick trunk of the tree Steve had chosen. “Right now, the warmest place in this area is in my suit. It’s the only thing we have that is completely temperature controlled.”

Tony sent a few repulsor blasts onto the snow-covered ground beside the tree, melting the snow away in a large circle to leave the frozen ground beneath. Hopefully that would be less cold to huddle on.

Steve frowned beneath his blue helmet. “You don’t— Are you saying you’re going to let Clint wear your armor? You’ll have to get out of it into the cold.”

“I know, and I’m really dreading it already,” Tony sighed.

“Are you sure this is the only way?” Steve asked, stopping Tony with a hand to his shoulder.

Tony paused and looked at Steve, really paid attention to Steve’s unusually intense tone and realized that Steve was shivering ever so slightly. It was really cold here so that wasn’t surprising, but something about how pale Steve looked around his lips, and how tightly his gloved hand was clamped over Tony’s armored shoulder made Tony do a double-take. Steve was more affected by the cold than he was letting on. Once Tony processed it, he wanted to smack his own head. Of course this was affecting Steve. Suddenly plummeting into freezing cold, not unlike the time his plane crashed into freezing water and Steve ended up frozen for decades? The sudden sense memory had to be shocking.

“Are you okay, Steve?” Tony asked in a low voice, too quiet for the others to hear.

Steve looked away, and then shook his head like he was trying to clear his mind. His jaw was clenched when he replied, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Are you sure you getting out of the armor is the only way to help Clint?”

With a member of his pack down for the count and in danger still, Steve was going to continue brushing away all concerns about his own wellbeing. And the truth was that there wasn’t much they could do about this situation. Steve’s problem with this freezing cold wasn’t something Tony could rectify right now. So Tony bit back a curse and nodded as he said, “Yeah, so Clint better appreciate it. I’ll get out once everyone has shifted, because I’m going to lose heat fast due to my…size.”

Steve looked at him for a couple of seconds with searching eyes, but must have accepted that there was no other way around it. He took a step back and in less than a blink, in an odd contraction of space and flesh, he was suddenly a large golden dog. Steve let out an uncomfortable whine, lifting one paw, unhappy at the cold against his feet. It was probably better that Steve took his dog form. He’d been in human form when the plane crashed into the Arctic, so maybe wearing his furs would help push away memories of his time in the ice.

“Nat, you heard the plan?” Tony called out over his shoulder.

“Yep. Do you need Clint in any particular position?” she asked.

“Just flat on his back, yeah, that will work,” Tony said as Thor and Natasha arranged him accordingly.

Thor came up to Tony and thumped him on the back, saying with a smile, “Your sacrifice for Clint will be appreciated. And I believe you can hold it over his head for a long while yet.”

“I plan to, buddy,” Tony muttered.

“Come, I will help keep your tiny shape warm as well once you have shifted,” Thor announced.

“My shape is _not tiny_ ,” Tony hissed, but Thor had already shifted into his gigantic lion’s shape and only looked at Tony with mirthful blue eyes, as if as to challenge Tony to prove how he really wasn’t small when compared to an oversized lion.

Before Tony could think of anything else as a counterargument, Natasha came up behind him and quietly said, “Thanks, Tony,” with a pat to his armored shoulder. Then she was gone, and in her place was a fox, her plush fur bright against the snowy ground. She brushed up against Thor who leaned down and rubbed a cheek against her back. They laid down side-by-side while Steve remained sitting beside them, attentive. Steve pointed his muzzle at Hulk and barked once, a sharp call, which resulted in Hulk ambling over and sitting down with a ground-shuddering impact beside Thor and Nat.

“Hulk help keep warm,” the Hulk said, stretching out an arm to encompass Thor and Natasha. They curled tighter into him as well.

Tony murmured, “Alright, my turn. J.A.R.V.I.S., send a quinjet from the nearest facility, just in case Strange doesn’t get to us soon. When I’m ready, form the armor around Clint instead. Pump up the heat when he’s in the armor, and administer any medical care you can.”

“Will do, Sir. Please keep all extremities as warm as possible,” J.A.R.V.I.S. said with a hint of worry in his voice.

“I’ll do my best, you worrywart.”

Then he took a step over to Clint who had been laid down as close to the tree as possible. He went to one knee beside Clint and laid a hand on him. Then, Tony closed his eyes and shifted.

The shift always happened so quick that there didn’t seem to be a transition period. One second he was Tony the human, and the next, he was Tony the black-footed cat. He usually felt a little dizzy at the sudden change if he kept his eyes open, the colours all around either fading to blues and greens or desaturating, objects further away blurring while things in the shade sharpened considerably. It was just easier to close his eyes before a shift. Unfortunately, his other senses couldn’t be as easily halted, so he was assaulted by new smells, even with his suit as air-tight and carefully maintained as it was. There was a strong metallic tinge in the air, and the scent of his own sweat saturated the inside of the armor, which was satisfying in a way because it made him certain deep down that Iron Man was _his_. Flexing his claws and twitching his whiskers, Tony took in a deep breath, ears flattened in unhappy anticipation. The suit was so warm and cosy, the harness that had formed around him holding him secure and safe; he had to force himself to proceed.

“Miaow,” he said.

The suit opened up, and Tony was assaulted by cold, freezing cold, along with the howling sound of the winds, much louder now to his sensitive ears. His nose wrinkled as his comforting scent was invaded by the wet smell of snow and dirt and nature. A loud bark caught his attention, and Tony looked down to see Steve standing right in front of the armor. Tony’s heart skipped a beat as he looked down at that inviting expanse of fur. Steve really was the perfect leader, always looking out for his packmates even when he had to be feeling shaky from memories of his trauma. Tony climbed out of the harness and leapt out from the Iron Man armor straight onto Steve’s obliging back. Once Tony was crouched on the pale gold expense, Steve made his way back to the group and lay down slowly on the ground beside Natasha, Thor and Hulk, careful not to knock Tony off his back. Tony appreciated the assistance because Steve’s lovely furry back was definitely an improvement over the horrible snow.

Tony looked up to see the nanites of the suit pouring down in a metallic fountain until the Iron Man armor reformed around Clint instead, hopefully raising his core temperature after the stint in the cold.

Too bad the rest of them couldn’t get an Iron Man armor of their own.

Tony had fur in this shape, but he still shivered at the next gust of wind. He crouched low, digging his claws into Steve’s fur to hold on. He felt Steve’s muscles tightened beneath his paws and then Steve carefully rolled onto his side, ensuring Tony moved with him so as not to fall off his back. Tony looked up and realized that the entire team was basically in a cuddling pile that looked very large from his vantage point. Hulk had his back to the tree now, with Thor and Nat pressed into his outstretched arm. Steve was half lying on Thor, curled with his nose touching his fluffy tail. Looking up, Tony wondered if Thor’s ruff of fur would keep him warmer and Thor tilted his head invitingly.

But then Steve was right here beneath his paws, with his wonderful warm scent and his watchful blue gaze. And Tony hadn’t forgotten Steve’s trembling from earlier, his pale skin as he told Tony that he was fine, even when he was clearly not fine. Steve’s steady gaze as he looked at Tony, ears pinned back against the cold and nose hidden under his tail, let Tony know that the decision was entirely up to him.

Tony made his decision. He inched down a little, right into the center of where Steve had curled up, and huddled down with all his paws tucked beneath him. Steve’s plummy tail swept up and blanketed over Tony’s back, sheltering him a little more from the wind. It felt like an invitation so Tony pressed his face into Steve’s side, knowing he looked ridiculous, knowing he might be taking a great liberty because of the situation. But that didn’t stop him from relishing in the comforting scent, didn’t stop the purr starting up deep in his chest at the rising warmth around them and the calm heartbeat beneath his ear. And maybe, maybe his presence could help Steve too, maybe his little warmth and rumbling purr could remind Steve that he wasn’t alone in the cold, that he was here with friends.

It was still bitterly cold, still uncomfortable, but he was with the team, and they were curled up tight, safe and sound.

Demonstrating one of the greatest talents cats had, Tony dozed off.

When next he woke, he realized he was no longer in the snow. Instead, he could hear familiar thrumming, the sound of engines. He was in the quinjet. And he felt a little stiff, still a little chilly, but underneath him, there was warmth. Odd. He tested with one paw without opening his eyes and realized he was lying on something human. And from the scent…

It was Steve.

He cracked an eyelid open and realized he was still on Steve, except Steve was no longer in his dog shape. He was in human form and sitting in the back of a quinjet with Tony in his lap. Tony would feel embarrassed if he didn’t feel so groggy. And cats didn’t feel embarrassed anyway. Nothing they ever did was embarrassing because they were the epitome of grace and elegance.

Slowly, Tony looked around, taking in his surroundings. He couldn’t see the cockpit clearly, but the hint of red hair above the chair was presumably Nat in the pilot’s seat. He could see the Iron Man armor flat on the ground, faceplate opened, and Bruce sitting on the ground next to the armor. He was talking in a quiet voice to Clint who still had his eyes closed but looked to be slowly coming around. Thor was back in his human form as well and was sitting on one of the benches, head tilted back, possibly dozing. He was wearing a thick jacket over his usual armor, one of the spares they kept in the quinjet. Relief washed over Tony to see all of them safely in the quinjet, seemingly uninjured from their little adventure. He looked back to Steve and realized that he was in a thick jacket as well, similar to what Thor was wearing. They must have wanted to warm up quickly after the bitter cold outside. Steve was watching Clint and Bruce with a faint furrow between his brows, looking a little pensive.

His craning around must have caught Steve’s attention because Steve looked down as if just realizing he was awake. Tony peered up at him and noted that Steve looked a lot better now, his face a little flushed as compared to his paleness in the snow. Steve looked him over carefully in turn and if Tony was reading him right, he seemed relieved as he spoke quietly, “J.A.R.V.I.S. said Strange is unreachable at the moment. The quinjet arrived fifteen minutes ago and we’re all onboard. Hulk is back to Bruce now and Clint is just waking up. You must be really tired because you slept through all that. I was…a little worried.”

It would usually be worrying to Tony as well, because he just didn’t do that. He had never been moved around in his cat form while he was sleeping before, and the idea that he slept through all that, slept through being carried onto the quinjet as well, was almost unbelievable. But here they were and he felt completely fine, almost too comfortable to worry. Maybe it was the cold that sent him into a deeper slumber, but Tony didn’t feel lethargic or affected in any bad way. He just felt rested and comfortable. Despite the chill that lingered on his fur, his paws felt warm and he didn’t really want to move.

He suspected he knew why as well.

Tony considered getting up and nonchalantly slinking off, but then…

When would he get this opportunity again?

Instead, he looked up at Steve, blinked slowly and started purring. Steve’s eyes widened and he just sat stock still for a moment. Then he wordlessly stroked one finger over the top of Tony’s paw. Tony allowed it and continued purring, not moving an inch. He thought Steve got the message, since he didn’t try to get up or suggest Tony move somewhere else. Instead, Steve started to stroke Tony’s back with careful hands, rubbed a knuckle along a furry cheek; Tony pushed back against it with delight and even turned his head to angle for more scratches against his other cheek as well. These strong hands were gentle and trustworthy, perfect to nudge into and encourage more patting.

There was something in Steve’s blue gaze that seemed to thaw, like he was slowly coming back to himself from the wretched cold earlier with the warmth in his lap and the purring under his hands. Tony’s eyes slowly closed in pleasure as he lay there, luxuriating in the slow patting and the way Steve mixed the scents of his hands against Tony’s cheeks. He told himself that maybe this was helping Steve in some way too and provided a kind of wordless comfort. If Tony felt safe and warm as well, then it was a mutually beneficial situation, one that involved staying in Steve’s lap. Mmmmrrrrrr, Steve’s lap…

Tony blinked his eyes open at the sound of fabric rustling and the scrape of metal. Steve had unzipped his jacket and was holding it open.

“You’ll warm up faster,” Steve offered, ears pricked up and tail held unnaturally still beside him, like he was trying to suppress a reaction. “I’m a little worried about the tips of your ears and your tail, after being so long in the cold.”

Oh, Tony knew he shouldn’t, knew that there were no dangers to his ears and tail at all, but he so badly wanted to, and since he was being invited, what harm could it do? Maybe this was something Steve wanted, after the bitter cold outside? Not wanting to second-guess himself any further, Tony crawled forward into the open jacket, and Steve closed it around Tony before zipping it up halfway. To a human, it might be claustrophobic and strange to be tucked into a jacket someone was still wearing. But for a cat, it was cosy and warm to be pressed up against Steve this way, held in by the jacket and the large hands that gently wrapped around his body through the fabric. Steve’s wondrous warm scent — the smell of lazy days under soft, clean blankets, the aroma of long naps in sweet sunshine — enfolded Tony, curled and mixed into his own fur and scent until they felt inextricably tied.

Tony wasn’t sure he had ever felt this comfortable before, not in his whole life, with his body curved around Steve’s torso. He hoped Steve felt warmed by the furred body against his stomach. He was already wondering how he could get Steve to let him do this again in the future, but he knew this was going to be a one-time experience, an exception as a result of their sudden escapade in the freezing cold. Tony was going to burn this into his memory, remember this wonderful moment of delicious warmth and comforting safety forever.

And if Tony just shifted a little, if his trying to find the perfect position meant his cheek coincidentally rubbed against the rough material of Steve’s uniform — _repeatedly_ — that was just an accident. If Tony had thoughts of, _‘Mine, mine, the cold can’t have him, this is mine, all mine, every bit, he really does have amazingly firm abs and they’re all mine mine mine’_ then they were just random thoughts, firing due to their circumstance. Tony purred all the louder and pushed his cheek harder into Steve’s stomach, eyes closing in trust and happiness. 

Later, when the quinjet arrived at a hotel for them to warm up more comfortably, Steve kept Tony tucked into his zipped up jacket as he carried him off the quinjet. Tony dozed in that cradle of warmth, stayed there until well past when it stopped being appropriate or logical. And Steve let him.

He never stopped purring the whole time. 

# # # # # #

Much as Tony was trying to persevere and continue as is like nothing had actually changed, the wider world wouldn’t allow for it. The media, shareholders, his own board of directors, they all wanted answers. Tony ignored them with the ease of someone who grew up in a world that was always clamoring for a piece of him.

Until the fated team press conference.

They had two battles in one week, an unusual number of attacks even for the Avengers. A press conference was always good to show a united front and show their human side, to answer questions and offer words of reassurances. These were all essential steps to staying on the good side of public opinion, which Tony had done rather inconsistently as CEO of Stark Industries, but was rather more diligent about as an Avenger. They were usually carried out with little trouble, especially after the team got really good at ensuring Steve didn’t get any questions which would get his hackles up and result in overly honest opinions. By this point, the Avengers had press conferences down to an art form.

Except for this particular press conference, because some asshole from R.A.W.S., _Regulate All Wild Shifters_ , had gotten in and was shouting very obnoxious questions. “Are Stark Industries shareholders comfortable with the head of the company being a Wilder? Don’t you owe shareholders an explanation and even compensation for any losses due to your subterfuge of your naturally wild and reckless behavior all these years?”

Some within the press started grumbling, unhappy that they had a bigot in their midst, but others were poised to capture Tony’s reaction. But it wasn’t Tony who reacted immediately.

A deep growl ripped through the air with the hair-raising snarl of an animal that was expressing a serious threat. The sound of Steve’s anger, hot and furious, was a genuine warning that usually preceded violence with claws and fangs. Even the fur on Steve’s ears was raised and his tail was stiff and bristling behind him. Tony was completely caught off guard because it was so unusual and unexpected from Steve, who did snap and show his displeasure at press conferences, but always — _always —_ had his more primal reactions under complete control. Hell, even Steve’s tail-wagging in public tended to be on the subdued side. Only Tony’s endless experience with the press stopped him from jumping, from flattening his ears in instinctive shock. Instead, he dug a warning elbow hard into Steve’s side, which made Steve jerk upright and cut off his growling completely.

Tony leaned forward and grinned at the room, upper lip lifting in a fang-baring smile, not remotely attempting friendliness. “Who let in the clown from R.A.W.S.? He’s going to bring down the stock value of journalists, unlike Stark Industries’ share price which remains at an all-time high and has been considered blue-chip stock for years now. But I can’t take credit for its successes either, since we have the wonderful Miss Potts at the helm for years now — I’m sure real journalists would remember that little factoid. Peace out.”

He blew a kiss at the press and stepped back, signalling the end to the press conference despite the rising volume from the gathered journalists.

The next day, the others ribbed Steve for being labelled as the wild, out of control beast of the Avengers. Growling in public was considered rude among Domestics, unlike back in Steve’s day when it was a more accepted expression of emotions, and the press was having a field day with it. From the less savory establishments, there were headlines about the ‘rabid dog of the Avengers’. The nicer publications rightfully pointed out that the R.A.W.S. reporter was out of line and displaying prejudice against Steve’s pack member, but also conceded that Steve had been a little uncouth in his response, inappropriate for the shiny mantle of Captain America.

“If only they knew about his potty mouth,” Sam churred with laughter.

“Or how he growls when he hasn’t gotten his beauty sleep,” Natasha agreed.

Bucky shook his head and drawled, “They haven’t even seen him when he’s trying to draw and someone blocks his light.”

One ear flicking with mild amusement, Steve stirred his cereal with one hand and pointed with his other at Bucky. “You’re one to talk. You growled at the Starbucks barista this morning when they got your order wrong _and_ called you Pucky.”

“Yeah, but they expect that kind of ‘uncouth and inappropriate’ behavior from me,” Bucky said with a fanged grin, “I’m one of the ‘wild’ ones. A _wolf_.”

It was nice that the team was handling this well, that they weren’t _affected_ by what was all over the news now, but Tony couldn’t find it in him to shake it off as easily.

“I’m going to get the Daily Mail to print a retraction,” Tony suddenly announced, cutting through the light banter. He hadn’t meant for his tone to come out so hard, but the press shouldn’t be talking about Steve like that. They shouldn’t be calling him a _rabid dog_ , for fuck’s sake. This was Steve Rogers, who was calm in the face of death and danger, whose tail wagged when he saw Tony, whose blue eyes laughed when he teased sleepy teammates in the mornings. How could they say that about him? 

Natasha leaned over his shoulder and winced when she saw what he was reading on his Starkpad. She squeezed his shoulder lightly and he forced himself not to pull away, knowing he was just feeling antsy. “You know if you do that, they’ll just latch onto what they said even harder, try to stir up your temper more.”

“They can’t just say shit like this about Steve and expect to get away with this,” Tony said, a hiss under his breath.

Steve leaned over and touched Tony’s wrist lightly, brows drawn together in a frown. “Hey, you know I don’t care, right?”

Tony looked at him, eyes slitted and gleaming with dissatisfaction. Whatever he saw in Tony’s stare, it made Steve’s ears prick up in surprise. Steve continued quickly, “I prefer this to their attack on you. I can take it, this isn’t actually a problem for me.”

That actually made Tony feel worse for some reason. He realized that his tail was swishing through the air and smacking against the back of his chair, his ears tipped back as he frowned. “You shouldn’t have to, not over my shift.”

Then Tony was out of his chair and striding for the elevator. He was going to fix this.

“Uh oh,” Sam said, from behind him. “That sounds like it’ll be trouble.”

“It’s Tony; it’s always trouble,” Natasha said, but she sounded too fond to be disapproving, which Tony took as tacit agreement for Tony to do what needed to be done. Remembering those worried blue eyes beneath dark blond brows, Tony resolved to fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to squeeze in a 'cuddling for warmth' trope in this chapter, but in an extra fluffy way instead! XD Thank you for reading!


	7. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note that Hound News is this Alternate Universe’s equivalent to Fox News.
> 
> I’m behind on answering comments again because I’m neck deep in some personal changes right now. Sorry about that! But I’ll get to them when things calm down again…

The first interview Tony did was with Hound News. Steve only found out it was even happening because Bucky dragged him out of his room, down the elevators and into the living room where everyone — besides Tony, of course — seemed to have set up shop with bowls of popcorn and drinks.

“Is there a party?” Steve asked, confused. “You could have just said it was a party, Bucky. I thought you said there was some kind of bloodbath on TV. I was busy—”

“Not that kind of bloodbath. C’mon, you’ll miss seeing your boy commit murder on national TV,” Bucky grumbled, dragging Steve to the couch and shoving him down before dropping onto a seat as well. Clint passed over a bowl of popcorn, and Bucky plopped it into Steve’s lap as if to anchor him in place. Steve gripped the bowl, barely acknowledging its presence on his lap.

He was going to protest _something_ , possibly everything about Bucky’s declaration, but then he got distracted by what was actually on the screen. “Is that— Why is Tony— Why is he on _Hound News_? He hates Hound News.”

It was strange to see Tony in a proper suit, not after being more used to seeing him walk around in a tank top, greased up after a session in his workshop, or in a T-shirt with a funny graphic paired with a nicely fitted jacket if he was heading out the door. But under the bright studio lighting, Tony was immaculate in a charcoal black suit and a deep red tie. His hair was perfectly coiffed, right to the very tips of his large cat ears that were pricked up and alert. Tony looked every bit the polished businessman that he pretended to be from time to time when necessary. All Steve wanted to do was remove that tie and jacket, muss up that hair, tell Tony he could relax his shoulders. But Tony was sitting opposite a man with a permanent sour look on his face and with the fur on his ears raised, like they were standing on end. Maybe Tony felt he needed a kind of armor against someone like this.

“He does hate Hound News,” Natasha commented absently as she watched the screen with rapt attention. “I thought he would go with a friendlier talkshow host, one of the thousands who love him and would serve him softball questions. But for some reason, he’s gone for a live interview with the journalist who hates his guts the most.”

Steve stared in horrified fascination as Tony smiled at the journalist by the name of Puck Kirkman. It was the kind of smile a predator shows to prey before it leaps, sharp canines gleaming under the studio lighting. 

“I’m just saying that the Avengers have a lot to answer for. You hid your real shift for so long, and now you have Captain America, who is supposed to be a role model, actually _growling_ at people during press conferences, you can’t tell me that’s acceptable behavior,” Kirkman blustered as he shuffled his papers in front of him.

Tony leaned back against his chair with a lethal, languid grace that set off all of Steve’s fight instincts. Those dark amber eyes were fixed in an unblinking stare on Kirkman, not even pretending to look towards the cameras. “I can and I will tell you that. Steve Rogers is a straightforward man, that’s what America likes about him. He was just expressing his feelings, which many across the world share with him, that it’s stupid to be prejudiced against Wilders for being who they are. Which is what you’re doing right now.”

“It’s factual that your _nature_ makes a difference to your decision-making,” Kirkman said, looking visibly hostile and also shaken for some reason, with ears pinned back and upper lip curled. “You’re a Wilder, a very small Wilder, so you have all the instincts and not even any of the size advantage. Could you control yourself if you were in a business negotiation with a larger Wilder? Your shareholders have a right to ask all these questions.”

“Everyone has the right to ask stupid questions, doesn’t mean I have to entertain them. If I met a larger Wilder during a business negotiation, I would be delighted since there are so few Wilders in high positions, what with bigotry like yours. Wilders are not controlled by their instincts, no more than Domestics are. Don’t tell me you can’t stop yourself from sniffing asses just because you’ve got a dog form, Kirkman,” Tony responded, ears pricked forward like he was on the hunt.

From Kirkman’s flushed face, this was going to set the tone of the interview.

Kirkman spluttered. “I’m not controlled by my instincts, not like the _jungle folk_.”

Tony rolled his eyes dismissively and shot back, “Jungle folk. The 1950s wants their speciests slurs back. If you read something besides those debunked horseshit theories on people with wild animal shifts, you would know that none of us are controlled by our instincts. Our animal forms are just another part of us. We’re still human, just like you, much as you try to pretend otherwise.”

“That was uncalled for.”

“Just calling it as it is.”

“If you really believe all that, why did you hide your true shift for so long, like it was some dirty secret?”

“First, my shift is none of your goddamn business _but_ I didn’t hide anything, you all just made your assumptions because of Howard’s shift and forgot that I have a mother as well, Maria Carbonell, who comes from a long line of black-footed cat shifters. Second, Howard didn’t make some public announcement the moment I hit puberty because it’s, back to the first point, none of your goddamn business, and because he knew about the discrimination I would face. The old man is a shrewd businessman, he doesn’t believe in starting on the back foot. He didn’t tell the world, and I didn’t think it was a big deal so I continued on the same path, which I regret considering the unnecessary furore this has caused.”

Steve knew it was more than the simple tale Tony was spinning. Howard had drilled it into Tony that he would never be accepted as he was if he wanted to lead Stark Industries and to hide his true shift. No matter the good intentions behind it and no matter how much Tony had tried to shrug it off, teaching a kid to hide away such a core part of who he was… Steve couldn’t agree with it. It would have been ingrained in Tony not to talk about it, not to shift, not to show anyone who he really was.

And now, Tony was in front of the cameras and under the spotlight, letting them tear away at his armor bit by bit. Steve suspected he knew the reason behind Tony’s decision to do this now, and his heart sank at the realization.

Kirkman shot him a condescending look. “You would say that, Mister Stark. What do you think about public opinion that you’ve lied to them all these years, and you’re untrustworthy? Why should the people trust you as an Avenger?”

“Why should I care what the bigots and Hound News say? Oh wait, sorry, they’re one and the same. The stocks at Stark Industries are climbing as always and I wouldn’t bet against me being People’s Sexiest Man of the year _again_.”

It went on and on like that. The journalist would say something insulting and demeaning, Tony would parry and attack with a jab of his own. Steve knew that in a duel of words and wit, Tony could easily hold his own.

But Tony had hidden this part of his life for years and years on end. His shift had been outed by the Enchantress, but he had seemed happy to ignore the clamoring and calls for an explanation. Until now. The timing was impossible to ignore. Tony was putting himself in the spotlight because he couldn’t stand Steve’s reputation taking a beating. Knowing all that, Steve sat through the interview, sat through every riposte and repartee, every cutting comment and acidic answer. His ears were pinned back, tail tucked under him as he sat stiff on the couch, watching Tony take the heat so that Steve didn’t have to.  

No, this just wasn’t good enough. Steve never backed down from a fight and he wasn’t going to start now.

Steve watched the rest of the interview, because he owed Tony that much. He sat through the barely suppressed snarls from the journalist and the almost unleashed hisses from Tony, and he hated every minute of it. Steve found his hackles slowly rising through the interview, ears flat to his head in sheer unhappiness. The others tried to draw him out of his black mood, but he wasn’t ready to let it go.

Thor frowned and said, “I believe Tony knows what he’s doing, Steve. He seemed to consider it a sport to verbally maul that man.”

“He shouldn’t need to,” Steve said in a low growl.

Bucky sighed, getting off the couch. “Here we go. That’s the face he wears right before a patented Steve Rogers alleyway fight. No point trying to talk him down now.”

“Uh oh,” Sam said, an echo of what he said earlier when it had been Tony.

“I’m fine,” Steve gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Sure you are,” Bucky drawled with little conviction.

Eventually, after he’d turned down various offers of distractions, they all left him to brood in the common area on his own. He had sat there for a few hours glare-watching all the negative — and to be fair, positive as well — press over Tony’s interview before the man himself finally walked in. Steve turned a little, watching Tony approach from the corner of his eyes. He looked tired, his tie already loosened and first button undone. Even the fur on his ears and his hair looked a little ruffled, like he had been running a hand over them.

“Oh, look at Hound News trying to defend some of the shit Kirkman said. They’re scrambling so hard,” Tony said, showing a flash of fang as he laughed. It was genuine amusement; he never tried to hide his little canines when he was truly relaxed. Now, Steve wondered if Tony had always been trying to play down his potential Wilder blood, to shake off any suspicion. Or maybe Steve was reading too much into it. He couldn’t help but feel angry in any case, already at boiling point after watching so much negativity directed at Tony. He tried to suppress it, bit down on any deep growl, because none of this anger was aimed at Tony, even if he felt some of frustration over Tony’s choices.

“You had a busy day,” Steve said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Something must have leaked through, because Tony tilted his head and examined him contemplatively. But he still came forward and dropped gracefully onto one end of the couch. Stretching languorously, Tony leaned back against the arm rest and curled his legs up beneath him.

“It wasn’t that busy. Just one short interview,” Tony said with a shrug. “I got distracted at R&D before heading back here. Someone created a kind of adhesive that I think will have useful applications for astronauts.”

“That interview with Kirkman,” Steve said, barely holding back a snarl at that name. Where was his ability to fake calmness? It seemed to have vanished with the day.

Tony watched him, tail held unnaturally still, stiff by his side. “You’re unhappy.”

“You picked a fight with Kirkman to distract everyone from what happened at that press conference yesterday,” Steve said, getting straight to the heart of the matter.

“No, I picked a fight with Kirkman, because he’s a speciest asshole,” Tony said as he raised an eyebrow. “It was time to give an interview anyway, and I decided to make it more of a splash so Pepper doesn’t send me on any more.”

Steve crossed his arms. “So you giving an interview today after all the bad press about me growling is pure coincidence? I wasn’t born yesterday, Tony.”

Tony pulled his tie off entirely, draping the silk fabric over the back of the couch. Then he rolled his eyes, sighing heavily like this was a big bother and said, “Why does it matter? Pepper had been after me to publicly tackle this issue and I just did. Case closed.”

The prevarication was as good as any admission he would ever get from Tony.

“I can look after myself. I can handle a few negative comments over something this small. I didn’t need you to take the brunt of the attention instead. I didn’t _want_ you to,” Steve cried out from sheer frustration, tail stiff behind him on the couch as his ears pressed back in unhappiness.

Tony’s ears flattened as he hissed, “They were calling you _feral_. They were lying about you.”

“Next you’re going to say they were besmirching my character,” Steve said, rubbing at an ear in agitation.

“Well…they were,” Tony retorted with a huff as he looked away, trying to regain his composure and pretend he wasn’t worked up about this.

“I don’t care what they think about me,” Steve said. He bit back the rest of his words, knowing they were too much, and probably not right for a moment like this. What other people thought about him didn’t really matter. What Tony thought about him was more important. He cared what everyone thought and said about _Tony_ , much more than he cared what they thought about himself. It hurt him to see Tony going out there and making himself a target, becoming a shield by redirecting the brunt of those harsh words originally aimed at Steve.

Tony started to run his fingers over his tail, grooming them while feigning disinterest. “Captain America’s reputation is important, not just for the team, but for the people who look up to him too. We can’t pretend it doesn’t matter.”

Steve sighed and said quietly, “What about Iron Man’s reputation?”

Sounding a little baffled, Tony asked, “What about it? People expect raucous interviews from me. This is hardly the worst thing I’ve done.”

“I know it isn’t, and putting that man in his place…he deserved it. But I know you didn’t want to deal with this mess, and opening up about your shift to someone like that was making yourself vulnerable to the worst kind of people. I didn’t want you to have to do that.”

“It had to happen eventually. Better to just rip off the bandaid.”

They were just going in circles now. Tony wasn’t going to admit that he drew the brunt of the conservative media’s ire on purpose because he wanted to shift the focus from the negative reaction to Steve’s behavior. Maybe he thought Steve would feel hurt by comments that made it clear Steve Rogers could never live up to Captain America’s reputation, comments on how Steve was failing at behaving like a proper dog shifter. Whatever the reason, Tony wasn’t going to address it directly. And Steve didn’t know if there would be any point in getting Tony to admit to it anyway. What was done was done. It didn’t change the outcome or the current situation. Slumping down uncharacteristically on the couch, Steve sighed.

He looked at Tony, who wouldn’t meet his gaze, sitting there with his back stiff and clearly uncomfortable. Steve didn’t want Tony to feel further attacked today, and he knew he wasn’t the best company right now. If Steve stayed, he might say the wrong thing in this fraught moment between them, but he didn’t want to leave Tony on his own either. Well, that just left him one solution.

Closing his eyes, Steve let his world contract, draw right in to the roots of his being until everything around him shifted, like the universe flinched and his surroundings were now just an inch off-centre. He opened his eyes and it wasn’t the world that had moved. He was the one who had changed.

Shifted.

Now in fur, Steve let out a soft woof. Tony turned, blinking slowly at the sight of Steve in his dog form.

Patting his fur down on the tip of his tail, Tony shrugged and said, “I guess it’s time for me to go down to the workshop, get some more work done.”

That just wouldn’t do. When Tony had just walked in, he had looked weary, like he needed some rest, not more work. Steve let out a little whine and flopped down on his belly on the couch. In this form, he took up most of the couch without even trying, his nose already pressed to the side of Tony’s thigh. Whining again, a high pitched warbling complaint, Steve inched forward as he looked up from beneath his lashes at Tony. He found Tony staring right back, looking a little suspicious.

Steve whined again and inched forward some more, resting the end of his muzzle on Tony’s thigh. His eyes were fixed on Tony for any disagreement or discomfort, but Tony didn’t make any sounds of protest. Taking that as an invitation, Steve inched forward slowly until his massive head took up most of Tony’s lap. He dug one paw under Tony’s thigh, settling down with a sigh of relaxation.

“Are you going to pin me down for the rest of the afternoon?” Tony asked. Steve peeked up again, but fortunately, Tony looked more amused than unhappy by the prospect. Tony’s ringed tail lay beside him, truly relaxed now rather than coiled with tension, which Steve took as another good sign. 

Steve closed his eyes with another sigh and let his head rest heavier on Tony’s lap, signalling his intention to stay. After a silent half minute, Steve felt a hand tentatively pat his ears, which he had on good authority were very silky and soft. Tony seemed to enjoy stroking their soft tips immensely, before running careful fingers through the fur on Steve’s head. It felt like heaven to have Tony’s strong massaging fingers comb through his fur, dig into his scruff and tug softly.

“I guess we can both do with a little rest,” Tony murmured, sinking his hands into Steve’s plush fur. Steve’s tail thumped a couple times in agreement. “Just for a little while then.”

Yes, just for a little while. That would be enough time for Steve to consider how to best enact his own plan.

# # # # # #

Steve set things in motion the next day. Instead of taking a car, he opted for his bike. Leaning into the corners and weaving at great speed around the other vehicles, Steve felt his body relax as he fell into the rhythm of following through with a plan. That was a good thing because the next part of his plan in Central Park needed him to be a lot more approachable.

He took a stroll along the park, walking by families and people on their own, patting the occasional dog that sniffed at him. Several people recognized him, but they didn’t approach him. He was a familiar enough face around here. Interest in Captain America mostly came in the form of photos taken from a distance, probably for their twitter or Instagram. Steve walked by a few kids throwing a ball at each other, and he slowed his pace a little. He noticed them noticing him, and he was unsurprised when the ball they were tossing around rolled in his direction.

Kids often did this around him, tossed a ball in his general direction in hopes that they would get to talk to him, or just as a dare from their friends. Steve obligingly picked the ball up and tossed it back at them. The boy who caught it giggled, and chucked it straight back at him.

Steve grinned.

As the ball sailed through the air, Steve took a step forward, and then another, and then he was shifting mid-stride, his muscles contracting, body bunching and expanding at the same time. It was like the moment right before a sneeze, suspended in time…and then he hit the ground on all fours and leapt straight up into the air, snagging the ball between his jaws. The kids whooped and cheered. Steve ran forward with the ball, dropping it at their feet, tail wagging as they picked the ball back up and threw it for him.

It was unusual, even demeaning, for an adult to use their shifted dog form to play fetch with strangers. What was acceptable among family and friends was just plain strange to see out in a park with a bunch of kids. It was certainly unusual enough that it drew a small crowd when people realized it was Captain America in his dog form, playing fetch like he was a…well, normal dog. Captain America might have a polished, charming smile in public and a friendly enough demeanor, but Steve knew he often came across as reserved and restrained for a dog shifter. To be racing around, carefree, in his dog from? It was enough to catch anyone’s attention. 

Steve leapt higher into the air than any regular person could, twisting and chasing with unusual speeds, enough so that it was unquestionable who he really was. The kids loved it, but the adults were flummoxed. Not that it stopped them from taking photos and talking about it. Being larger than normal even in his dog form, covered in silky gold fur, Steve knew he made quite the sight dashing amongst the kids. He ran haphazardly around with the ball held gently between his teeth, playing catch or tag with the children. He towed some of the smaller children around when they held on, joyously jumped into mud when there were any in front of him.

When the kids’ energy was spent, Steve trotted away from them with his plummy tail held confident and curled over his back. Wanting to give his body time to calm down from all the excitement, he sniffed along the walkways and even stuck his nose in a couple interesting bushes, taking in all the information of the surrounding area through scent alone. Finally, when he took on his human form again, he could feel the mud and dirt coming along through the shift, his clothing immediately covered in grime the moment he shifted back. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed people avidly taking photos and videos. You didn’t often see one of the Avengers shift in public, but it was rarer still to see them frolicking in the grass with a bunch of kids and blatantly sniffing around without any decorum or a visible professional reason.

“Hi, Captain America, sir, do you have a moment?”

A young teenage girl in a hoodie and jeans dashed in front of him, with a phone held up in a way that made it obvious she was recording him. Next to her, was a young man…wait, Peter? Peter gave him an awkward little wave, mouth grimacing in an uncertain smile. Steve took another look at the girl, and realized she must be the MJ they’d heard so much about, mostly about how she was kind of bossy but also a smart, motivated young activist. Steve had thought he liked her from Peter’s description, and he suspected that feeling would only be confirmed through this encounter, just by looking at the determined set to her jaw, the way her dark tail was held high behind her, the end of it curled just the slightest, indicating her excitement and confidence. 

Steve hadn’t planned for this exactly, but he was good at seizing opportunities as they came up and modifying his plans on the go.

“Yes, how can I help you?” he asked with what he privately thought as his Captain America’s Public Service Announcement smile.

“I’m Michelle Jones, and I run a blog called World Wide Wilders. I was wondering if I could ask you a couple questions about recent events involving the Avengers,” she said, holding up her phone and gesturing at it.

Steve smiled at the phone’s camera and responded, “Sounds interesting. Fire away.”

A smile passed over the girl’s face, the only hint of the excitement that she might be feeling, before she got it under control and continued her interview in earnest. “Your teammate Tony Stark has just had an explosive interview with Hound News. Do you have any comments about Tony Stark’s shift and some of the things that have been said about him because he’s a Wilder?”

Steve really did like this girl. “You know, there were good things from back in my day, and there were terrible things as well. The world has come a long way since, for better or worse,” Steve began, slow and measured. “Vaccines, the medical advances, the ease of communication, those are all signs of great progress. I thought that we had also progressed beyond prejudice against Wilders. It was a big issue back in my day, just like racism and sexism. I thought we were doing better now, but it looks like I’m wrong.”

“So you don’t agree with the view that Wilders are unsuitable in high stress positions or in leadership in the corporate world due to their wild instincts?” MJ asked, eyes gleaming with approval as she tilted her head, rounded ears pricked up.

“That was the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard,” Steve said bluntly, ears going back a little in displeasure at the thought. “If I can trust Wilders to be quick-witted enough to make decisions on the field and to watch my back and to save lives, why wouldn’t I trust them in a board room or as a CEO? No one questions Thor’s shift as a lion on the Avengers, why are they upset that they might have a Wilder as their Chief Technology Officer, one with a proven track record who has brought the company so much success? The gizmos Tony creates for his company and for the team are often beyond my imagination, and he makes them all work. Have people seen his new nanotech suit? It’s amazing.”

Peter was nodding along enthusiastically, swept up as always when it came to talking about Tony’s genius and tech.

“Yes, it looks pretty good,” MJ said, and continued like a dog with a bone. “I take it you don’t agree with Puck Kirkman from Hound News, and the things he said about Tony Stark during that interview?”

Steve frowned. “Hound News and I disagree on a lot of things. There are many things they would frown upon me doing, but that’s not going to stop me.”

“Such as?” MJ pressed eagerly, smelling a story.

“Thinking about it, I’m not sure there’s a single thing about me that they would approve of, other than having the word America in my callsign. They wouldn’t like my view on politics, immigration and healthcare for a start. Batting for both teams would probably be considered unacceptable to them too,” Steve said in a contemplative tone.

MJ and Peter froze at that. Peter stared at him, mouth flapping open and shut comically. MJ regained her composure first.

“Do you mean— You realize what you’re saying, right?” MJ asked, sounding a little hesitant for the first time.

“Yes, I do. Was it the baseball metaphor? The rest of the team always makes fun of my baseball metaphors,” Steve said with a shake of his head. “Alright, I’ve got to go now, kids. Stay safe and don’t get into trouble.”

He gave them a jaunty salute while they were still spluttering at him, and headed off at a sedate pace.

That should handle the news cycle for awhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I had to rush editing this chapter. Hope it's still enjoyable!
> 
> So, last chapter next week! :O I'm gonna miss this fluff fest. 
> 
> Next week, you'll see the total chapter count increase to 9 chapters because I’ll be posting Chapter 8 and a short-ish Epilogue at the same time, with the Epilogue getting its own chapter on AO3 for symmetrical reasons.


	8. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My personal life has turned up to eleven in terms of busyness and I was worried I wouldn't be able to make my own posting schedule. As it is, I do apologise for any mistakes, I'm trying my best while being half asleep from tiredness. I'm so sorry again for being behind on comments, but I will certainly get to them, hopefully when things calm down in a week or two. Thank you for all the wonderful comments and every one of them is appreciated!

“I can’t believe the two of you.”

Steve and Tony stood awkwardly in front of the full body hologram of Pepper Potts, her arms on her hips as she glared at them like they were naughty school children. They were using the new Stark phones’ holographic communication interface which enabled Pepper to glare at them like she was right there, when she was actually all the way in Japan.

“I was just doing an interview, you were asking me to do interviews and be open about my shift, I don’t know why you’re so mad,” Tony tried to prevaricate. 

“With a friendly face, like Colbert or Ellen, someone who would be sympathetic—”

“I thought I would just jump off the deep end, tackle the worst, then none of the detractors can—”

“—to your situation. You were not thinking about the detractors, I know you weren’t, don’t pretend this isn’t about—”

“—complain that I was too afraid to talk to the devil. Were you worried I couldn’t handle someone on Hound News, you know I can—”

Usually, when the two of them got like that, everyone just sat back and watched the show. But Steve decided he had to bear some responsibility for the news cycle just exploding with coverage on the two of them, so he interrupted and said, “I’m sorry, Pepper. We didn’t mean to cause you any issues, but some of those things just happened.”

Pepper’s gaze snapped to him and Steve immediately questioned his judgement in drawing her attention. She didn’t look impressed by what she saw with the way she folded her arms and frowned. “No, don’t give me your puppy dog eyes, I’m not Tony, I’m not weak to them.”

“I’m…sorry? I’m not doing anything,” Steve said, but his mind was suddenly caught up in thoughts of Tony being weak to Steve’s puppy dog eyes. Really? Because that was interesting and probably good to know…

Tony glared at Pepper. “I’m not weak to his puppy dog eyes.”

Pepper ignored them and continued, “You’re not any better, Steve. First, you growled in a press conference, which I’ve never seen you do before. You know full well Tony can handle himself fine there.”

“It just happened,” Steve said a little weakly.

“Then, you went to play catch and Frisbee with the kids at the park in your dog form, which you know people don’t do,” Pepper continued. “ _And_ you came out to a teenager interviewing you for her blog and it’s gone absolutely viral. Everyone is trying to figure out if you really meant that you’re bisexual, or if you’re just too old and out of touch to get what that phrase meant.”

Tony interjected, with some admiration in his voice, “I still can’t believe you trolled the world with your coming out. That is probably the highest form of trolling I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Steve said as he put his hands behind him at a parade rest, the picture of decorum and innocence. He had to bite his cheek to stop a grin.

“Sure you don’t, Captain Troll,” Tony said with a shake of his head, although he seemed mostly impressed.

“I’m with Tony on this one,” Pepper said, sounding significantly less impressed. “I don’t for a minute believe that you didn’t know what you were doing. The news has been talking about nothing but that.”

“Well, better that than everything else they have been talking about,” Steve pointed out with a shrug.

“Hah, so you did do it on purpose!” Tony exclaimed.

Pepper sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Steve, you can’t just go around making _bigger_ news because you don’t like what the media is talking about.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of my job,” Tony said, sobering a little. “I hope you didn’t really come out just so you could distract people from my interview with whatshisname at Hound News.”

“Well, I hope you didn’t go pick a fight with Hound News just so you could distract people from my growl at the press conference,” Steve countered, turning to look Tony in the eye. “And I don’t mind being open about my bisexuality. It wasn’t a big secret, I just didn’t know how to get it out there. Well, now I know, and it’s started a useful conversation too.”

Tony stared back at him, seeming a little loss for words, eyes gleaming in the low light.

“You both need to stop messing with the media,” Pepper said with clear annoyance, her voice breaking Steve’s focus on Tony. “If you don’t, it could blow up in your faces which will make it worse. For the both of you. I’m supposed to be taking questions about our new Stark phone, not fielding questions about all of this.” She gestured at them, as if they encompassed all her problems.

“Well, we’re done for now anyway,” Tony said with a careless shrug.

When Pepper looked like she might wind herself up for another rant, Steve quickly said, “I’m sorry, Pepper. We’ll be more careful in the future about who we talk to in the media and what we do.”

Pepper sighed, rubbing her head, which made Steve feel a bit bad at the headache they must be causing. “If only I really believed that. Just… stay low for a few days, let it blow over a little. Don’t do anything rash, if at all possible.”

“We’ll try,” Steve offered, which was probably the best he could do.

“I’ll take it,” Pepper said, resigned.

While Pepper and Tony talked a little more about the new Stark phone launch, Steve wandered over to the couch and settled himself down to wait. They were in the common area again, knowing they would have some privacy for the dressing down since most everyone was out for the day. Some of the things Pepper had said… It made Steve think.

He waited, sat there stiff and almost vibrating with tension as Tony went back and forth with Pepper, cajoling and poking at her in turns, while she deflected and prodded back at him. When he ended the video call and sauntered over, he didn’t seem at all concerned about the scolding he just received. He flopped down onto the couch next to Steve, his warmth a siren call for Steve.

“I think that means we should both lay low for a while,” Tony said, sounding a little indifferent. Steve wasn’t surprised, since Tony could hole up in his workshop for days without noticing the passing of time.

Steve shrugged. “I don’t mind the break from the public eye.”

“We’ll both stay in for some downtime,” Tony said, adding wryly, “Which probably means earth will be under attack tomorrow by a roving band of evil aliens.”

“It’s always the evil aliens,” Steve agreed with a put-on air of sage wisdom.

Tony smiled in amusement before leaning back with a sigh. “A break would be good for both of us. I’ll tinker and you’ll hit things with your shield for relaxation.”

“I don’t hit things with my shield for relaxation,” Steve said, faux offended, before he continued, “I polish my shield for relaxation. I hit things with my shield for _fun_.”

“Maybe you should consider non-shield related activities for relaxation, otherwise the team is going to start thinking it’s your security blanket,” Tony said, grinning.

The opening was too good to miss, so Steve asked as innocently as he could, “Well, for non-shield related activities, I always found being groomed to be relaxing.”

He tried to ooze nonchalance as he said it, tried to continue holding Tony’s gaze like it was nothing. Pepper’s words earlier had made him wonder if this thing between Tony and him was a two-way street instead of the dead end he’d always thought it was. Tony had tried to take the heat off Steve, which resulted in Steve trying to do almost the exact same thing. This didn’t seem like a normal back and forth between two friends. Then there was the comment about the puppy dog eyes… Was it possible that Tony felt more than just normal friendship for Steve?

It felt like too much to hope for, but Steve didn’t get where he was without taking risks.

“You do?” Tony said, looking surprised.

“If it’s by the right people,” Steve offered, feeling a little shy but forcing himself to hold Tony’s wide-eyed golden gaze.

“So when you say right people, you mean, kinda, uh.”

Steve slide to the floor, back to the couch, and turned a little to smile at Tony. “Why don’t we find out?”

Tony stared at Steve, gaping slightly.

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine as well,” Steve said, now uncertain in the face of Tony’s silence and non-reaction.

“No! I mean…” Tony cleared his throat and scooted sideways, nearer to Steve. “I mean, let’s… uh, let’s test this hypothesis.”

“I’m pretty sure of the conclusion, but we’d better make sure,” Steve said as he tried to be bold in the rush of relief he felt at Tony’s words. Did that mean— Could it possibly be that Tony—

Before Steve’s mind went down the rabbit hole of desperate hope and crippling uncertainty, he felt Tony shift so that he was on the cushion right behind Steve. Then he laid hands on Steve’s shoulders. Steve had to bite down on a gasp and tell himself not to be ridiculous, but he was almost thrumming with excitement and longing. He had felt Tony groom him once, right before the fight with the Enchantress, but that had been achieved through some trickery on Steve’s part; this time, he had just been honest…

He felt hot breath just before a rough tongue rasped over his right ear, a small kitten lick, as if testing the waters. Steve melted against the couch and Tony’s firm hold, relishing the careful grooming of his ears. 

Steve was a limp body of pure happiness, basking under the warmth of Tony’s hands against his shoulders, that rasping tongue licking at his ears. If he could purr, he would, but as it was, he was too happy and relaxed to even wag his tail. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back to give Tony better access. After awhile, Tony replaced his careful licks with one hand instead, scratching gently behind Steve’s ears. Steve could only let out a long sigh of sheer enjoyment.

“Steve?” Tony said, his voice low and quiet, almost right in Steve’s ear. Steve shivered, feeling a prickle of pleasure dance across his skin at the gust of warm breath against his sensitive fur.

“Yeah?” he responded in an almost dream-like state.

“Why do you like me to groom you?” Tony asked, words hesitantly dropped into the air.

Steve frowned and opened his eyes slowly, looking back and up into Tony’s dark curious eyes. He didn’t understand. Wasn’t it obvious? “Because…because it’s _you_ ,” Steve said helplessly. “I always want to be groomed by you.”

He watched Tony’s eyes widened, blinked rapidly a few times, and the lassitude of pleasure dissipated enough for him to realize that maybe he had said too much, maybe he had been too obvious with his feelings when he didn’t really _know_ what Tony thought. Grooming wasn’t necessarily sexual, but it was intimate. The way Steve had responded, had it given him away?

Then he caught a flicker, the smallest of smiles on Tony’s face. In one quick move, Tony leaned forward and licked Steve’s ear one more time before straightening and turning away, suddenly grooming at his hand fussily, like he was very busy with that task. Steve blinked and stared, hand coming up to his ear. Tony had licked him, even though…even though maybe Steve had exposed his feelings…

Did that mean, maybe…

But no, that couldn’t be it. Steve was reading too much into it. He straightened and climbed onto the couch slowly. No, he was overthinking this, but he told himself that he would still be happy with what he got, he would still cling onto that warm happiness as Tony groomed him, showed him affection. Steve rubbed his ear, watching Tony fastidiously flatten his hands over his clothes. This was more than enough, to be able to sit so close to Tony, to have his warmth pressed against his side.

Then, Tony said with complete nonchalance, “Do you want to have dinner with me?”

Steve stared. Tony didn’t stop his grooming and fussing, didn’t look up from what he was doing.

“Dinner…as in, team dinner?” Steve asked, almost a croak in his voice, too afraid to _hope_ for what he really wanted this to be.

“No, I mean dinner as in a date dinner,” Tony clarified without missing a beat. His voice sounded smooth and casual, like he was asking Steve if he had time to go over videos of their last team training. Hell, Tony probably sounded more interested in team training videos than this calm, random invitation.

Steve looked closer and finally noticed that Tony’s hand was trembling just a little bit, his tail held stiff behind him in tension. Tony darted a look at him over his shoulder, lower lip drawn in under peeking fangs. He was _nervous_. This wasn’t some casual question to Tony, this was just Tony’s usual way of dealing with important matters; pretend it didn’t matter to him. He thought dating Steve was important, and he was nervous waiting for Steve’s answer. And Steve was just sitting here, in silence, gaping like an idiot, probably letting Tony think it was a negative answer—

“Yes, yes, I mean, _yes_ ,” Steve rushed out all of a sudden, panicked at the idea that Tony might try to take it back in a fit of nerves. “Yes, absolutely, let’s go for a dinner date.”

Tony started running his careful fingers over the back of his own ears. “I think I got it at the first ‘yes’, Steve.” His tone was light, teasing.

But Steve wasn’t fooled any longer. He could see from the cheerfully curled tip of Tony’s tail and his perked ears that Tony was pleased, happy.

“You know, have to make sure your hearing isn’t going,” Steve retorted, because he wanted to see Tony’s face, and he knew the fastest way to get Tony’s attention.

Tony whipped around, outraged. “Are you saying I’m—” He stopped abruptly and stared, mouth opened.

He had wanted to see Tony’s face, but he knew his own must be a sight. He could feel his neck, cheeks and ears flushed with happiness and excitement, could feel his tail whipping back and forth so hard and fast that it was probably just a blur of happy flying fur. He knew he looked ridiculous, but he just didn’t care. With Tony facing him, he could see the small smile on Tony’s face, the brightness in his gaze.

“Steve, you’re so red,” Tony said, lips curving up into a bigger, amused smile.

“I’m just…glad. I’m very glad,” Steve said in the understatement of the year, knowing he was beaming his pleasure for all to see.

Tony ducked his head, hiding his own pleased smile. Steve only grinned at him like an idiot and did not try to tamp it down at all. With sudden speed, Tony ducked forward, came right into Steve’s space and right up to his face. Steve only had time to recognize a mischievous smile before he felt warm lips pressed up against his cheek in a soft kiss. Then Tony had ducked back again, back to straightening his shirt, even though there was still an irrepressible hint of a smile on his face.

Steve let out a whine, unable to help himself, and Tony muffled a laugh against his hand. Now it was Steve’s turn to move forward, press in closer. Tony’s gaze was cast downwards and fixed seemingly on the hem of his shirt, face turned away a little from Steve. But Steve only pressed closer again, nose nudging at Tony’s cheek, against the soft bristles of his perfectly groomed goatee. Steve drew a line with the tip of his nose along the top edge of that goatee, breathing in Tony’s warm, welcoming scent. Then, Steve paused, his nose pressed to the top of Tony’s cheek, waiting.

Finally, _finally_ , Tony turned his face a fraction, just a little, and their noses brushed. Steve drew in a breath, and they both moved, rubbing noses gently. The sweetness of the gesture, the intimacy of it had Steve’s heart tripping. He tilted his head to the left, just as Tony tilted his to the right, in perfect synchrony, and they pressed their lips together in a gentle, explorative kiss. Tony’s lips parted immediately, and Steve mirrored him. They kissed slow and languid, like they had all the time in the world. And maybe they did. Steve felt Tony’s hands smoothing over his shoulders, moving over his back in an embrace, and realized that he had his arms around Tony as well, even if he didn’t remember when that happened. He curled his arms in tighter, pulled Tony closer. Their mouths parted for a fraction of a second before sealing over again, desperate not to be apart, desperate for another taste. Steve felt and heard a rumbling against his chest and realized Tony was purring, a rumbling of pure contentment that only made Steve kiss Tony harder and deeper.

They’d started out languid and slow, gentle and explorative, but by the end of it, they were panting, lips red and wet, hair mussed from dragging hands, the fur on their ears on end. They stopped for a moment, gasping into each other’s mouths. It was just kissing, but Steve felt more worked up than he had ever been before. Steve opened his eyes to stare into a gold gaze bright with pleasure. Tony squeezed his arms, pressed another tender kiss to Steve’s cheek, then suddenly he was squirming out of Steve’s hold and he was off the couch. Steve couldn’t help but let out a whimper of disappointment.

Tony looked over his shoulder, grinning with a cute flash of fang. “I don’t put out before dinner. What kind of cat do you think I am?”

“But where are you going?” Steve asked sadly. “We don’t have to go any further, we can just sit together for awhile.”

“I’ve got things to get done, Cap-pup, no time for couch cuddles just yet.”

Steve blinked, trying to gather his scattered wits. He called out, “Not even for a national icon?” He looked up at Tony from the couch, making his eyes go as large as he could, ears and tail drooping a little, a look of longing and pleading.

Tony glanced over his shoulder again and seemed to trip over nothing. He caught himself and turned around to wave a finger at Steve. “Nuh uh, that puppy dog look is a dangerous one. You put that away or someone could get hurt. I’ve seen you use it before, and I know it can’t be trusted.”

Steve beamed at him, tail wagging. “Sorry, had to give it a shot.”

Tony smiled at him and shook his head. “Cheeky.”

“See you later? Meet me on my floor at eight and we can go get something,” Steve suggested, wanting to make absolutely sure that this was happening.

Tony nodded and sauntered backwards into the open elevator, giving Steve an air-kiss as the door closed. Steve slumped back into the couch, smiling at himself in what was surely a dopey manner, enjoying their mixed scents in the air. He licked his lips, remembering the taste, remembering how it felt to have Tony pressed up close, warm in his arms, neck arched and mouth open, pliant… Oh, even if Tony hadn’t stayed for more kissing, Steve would have loved for them to just sit together, sharing a couch, sharing a scent, relaxing together.

But now he had to wait until dinnertime and Steve had no idea how he was going to make it that long. He was vibrating with so much energy.

The elevator doors pinged open and Steve whipped around to stare. Bucky came strolling out, whistling, and then froze at the predatory stare.

“What the hell, Steve?” he asked in surprise.

“Tony just asked me out,” Steve blurted out, grinning as he stood up.

“Oh, congrats. Maybe you can stop moping around like people were constantly stepping on your ridiculous fluffy tail now,” Bucky said without any real rancor.

“It’s for dinner. A dinner date,” Steve continued.

“Okay…” Bucky peered at him in confusion.

Steve grinned. “I’m very excited and I have to wait until dinnertime and I think I better work out some of this energy now.”

Bucky backed up a step and held his hands up. “Oh no, I’ve been out since before the sun came up and I came back early for a nap. I’m not up for any wrestling or chasing—”

“Training Protocol 57 for Bucky and I, J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Steve said as he stepped forward.

“Acknowledged. Training protocol initiated. Elevators shutdown temporarily for yourself and Mister Barnes,” J.A.R.V.I.S. announced through the overhead speakers.

Bucky growled, “Damnit, Steve.”

Steve only let out a triumphant howl and shifted shapes. Bucky turned tail and ran, swearing the whole way, as Steve went nipping at his heels.

# # # # # #

“Captain, Sir is at your door.”

“Let him in please,” Steve said, a little nervous as he quickly whipped off his apron and hung it up before hovering beside the dining-room table.

The elevator doors opened to admit Tony, who walked in and stopped, sniffing the air.

“You cooked,” Tony stated, surprised.

But Steve was busy sniffing the air as well. His kitchen and dining area had been saturated for the last hour with mouth-watering scents from the steaks that he’d pan-seared, the green beans and shallots sautéed in butter, salt and pepper, and the herb-encrusted potatoes, carrots and pumpkins baking in the oven. But what had him sniffing the air wasn’t the smell of his own food. No, it was the new food aromas. Breathing in deep, he tried to separate the smells, figuring out what was new in the air. _Prawns, chilli, garlic, pasta_.

And they were all coming from the bags held in Tony’s hands by his sides.

“You brought food,” Steve said in mutual surprise.

“I fetched it from my favorite Italian place since I figured no one should be tortured with my culinary experiments,” Tony said, trying to shrug it off and make it seem like it was no big deal. 

But Steve knew better and he couldn’t help the smile spreading on his lips and his slowly wagging tail. They were both pretty ridiculous; they’d each brought food, as if to prove they could provide for the other. He had been so excited at the thought of cooking for Tony that he hadn’t considered that Tony might have wanted to bring food for Steve for exactly the same reason.

Steve came forward to help take Tony’s food from him, but Tony drew back a little and said, “Let’s put what I brought in the fridge. You _cooked me a meal_ and it smells amazing, we’re definitely eating that.”

Tony seemed sincere as he looked appreciatively over the food that had been carefully laid out on the table, looking like he could barely remember that he was carrying his own food as well.

“No, that garlic bread and pasta smells amazing. Why don’t we eat half of everything instead? Variety is good,” Steve said, pulling the bags of food carefully away from Tony. He scented familiar cinnamon sweetness from one of the bags. “Oh, you brought an apple pie as well. That’s perfect, we can combine it with the ice cream in the freezer.”

“You made ice cream?” Tony asked, not even a hint of surprise on his face like he expected it to be something else Steve could do.

While the confidence was flattering, Steve shook his head and laughed. “No, I wouldn’t even know where to start. I bought it.”

“Oooh, Ben & Jerry’s _Captain Amaretto Swirl_?”

“That and _Stark Raving Hazelnuts_.”

Tony said with a smirk and a swish of his tail, “I bet they taste great _together_.”

Steve cleared his throat, knowing that he wasn’t blushing but that his tail was also a dead giveaway with the way it was wagging. “I can agree with that. I like eating them together.”

“A man with good taste,” Tony praised as he brushed against Steve’s side on his way to the table.

The meal was delicious. Steve had brought out more plates, and they both had a little of everything. Tony kept stealing bites from Steve’s plate, even though he had the exact same food on his side, insisting that it tasted better when eaten off Steve’s plate. In retaliation, Steve kept stealing Tony’s food just to place it on his own plate, which didn’t deter Tony’s own theft, even if he was only eating what had started out on his side of the table. 

Steve kept being caught off guard by how good Tony looked. While he was devastatingly attractive on a regular basis, the smouldering looks he kept sending Steve’s way were extra distracting. Steve was partial to all of Tony’s aesthetic choices, especially when he looked mussed and happy from the workshop, but he suspected most of the world would be susceptible to Tony Stark in a well fitted maroon shirt, collar open to reveal his graceful neck and his tempting collarbones. His hair was artfully styled and the fur on his ears was groomed to sleek perfection. Before he had taken his seat, Steve hadn’t been able to look away from how obscenely tight Tony’s dark pants were, his svelte tail arched upwards, drawing attention to his rear and his muscled thighs. 

Between Tony’s flirtatious comments and the dark gaze trained on him, Steve was feeling hot under the collar by the time he went to get dessert. In the kitchen, he unbuttoned another button on the tight blue shirt he was wearing; the same shirt that Natasha had said made it seem like he had shrunk his clothing in the wash. But he had settled on this one anyway because the first time he had worn it a month ago, Tony had trailed his hand up Steve’s biceps absently, murmured that the shirt brought out his eyes, before coughing and ignoring Steve for the rest of the evening. Hopefully, he would get more of the bicep-touching and compliments, and less of the part where he was ignored.

When Steve came back into the dining room, he placed the plate of apple pie and the bowl of ice cream in front of Tony. Then he sat on the chair next to Tony instead of going round the table to sit on the opposite side.

“Do you mind if I sit here instead? We can share the dessert,” Steve said, trying not to wag his tail too much, and hoping Tony would agree to the closer proximity.

“What a great idea,” Tony said, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiled at Steve. He moved his chair so that it was closer to Steve’s as he pushed the bowl and plate over to sit between them.

Steve beamed at Tony, delighted at how his scent was mixing in with Tony’s own, entwining with the smell of sun-warmed metal and rich nuttiness. Seeing the crinkle at the corners of Tony’s mouth and the amusement in his deep brown eyes, Steve tried to pretend to focus on the pie. He dug a fork in and took a mouthful.

“Is it any good?” Tony purred in a way that made it sound like he was asking about something else altogether.

Steve swallowed and looked right at Tony in a way which he hoped conveyed that he was talking about something other than apple pie too when he said, “It’s stunning.” He cut another neat piece of pie with his fork and offered it up to Tony. “Try some?”

Tony’s thick, dark lashes swept down before he looked up with mischief in his eyes and in the tilt of his ears. “I would love a taste test.”

Then he leaned forward, leaned past the proffered fork, and stopped less than an inch from Steve’s lips. At this point, Steve had already stopped breathing, his vision a blur of Tony Stark, taking up his whole world. Delicately, Tony licked Steve’s lower lip. Steve gasped, mouth falling open, and Tony pressed in to lick between his lips, to taste his mouth in a warm, teasing kiss. Guided by Tony’s light hand against his cheek, Steve tilted his head and allowed the kiss to deepen, letting Tony explore his mouth with kitten licks. After a heated moment where tongues and lips slid deliciously together, they parted for air and Steve let out a short, embarrassingly breathless whine. Tony drew back with a smug smile, stopping at the fork that was still held to the side and in the air because Steve’s entire body from neck down had frozen in place. Never taking his eyes off Steve’s wide-eyed stare, Tony turned his head and closed his mouth around the bite of apple pie that was hanging precariously on the fork. He pulled off the fork slowly, sensuously, chewed and swallowed before licking his lips.

“Delicious,” he purred.

Steve couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and sniffed at Tony’s mouth, breathing in his warm breath with the added taste of cinnamon and apple. Under his slow, deep breaths, Tony remained completely still. Then Steve pulled back with the bowl of ice cream he’d reached past Tony to get. He smiled at Tony, widened his eyes innocently as he placed his fork on the plate of pie before taking a spoonful of sweet ice cream.

“The ice cream is melting,” he said mildly.

“You tease,” Tony grumbled, using another fork to dig into the apple pie. “Are you going to share the _Stark Raving Captain Amaretto_?”

“Hmm… No, I don’t think so,” Steve said, as he took another considering spoonful of creamy hazelnut and cherry almond, knowing that this would rile Tony up.

As expected, Tony’s mouth fell open in outrage. “Steve, how could you? Those two flavors are my favorite and you’re not going to let me have any?”

Steve gave him another beatific smile. “You can taste test it. Like earlier.”

“I’ve created a monster,” Tony groaned melodramatically.

But he also scooted his chair closer so that he was pressed up against Steve’s side, close enough that Steve could feel his rumbling purr. He leaned in again with a put-upon sigh for another probing kiss. Steve’s tail started its cheerful beat against Tony’s side. When the kiss ended on a soft sigh from both of them, Steve realized abruptly that something warm and lithe was curled around his own tail. Unable to help himself, Steve glanced back, eyes widening at the sight of Tony’s deep golden tail entwined around his fluffier pale tail.

“Your tail keeps whacking me, I’m just holding it still,” Tony said, exuding nonchalance.

Steve bit down on a grin. “Thanks, I appreciate the hand. Or the tail, in this case.”

“As you should,” Tony said with a sniff, before trying to steal some of Steve’s ice cream.  

An effort to stop the dessert heist ensued, which mostly consisted of Steve’s tail trying to wag even with Tony’s curled around it and many sweet kisses exchanged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't seen it already, check out [Atoria's adorable art of Iron Cat](http://atoria420.tumblr.com/post/183254753137/i-really-dont-know-that-i-can-explain-myself), so cute! <3


	9. Tony & Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m posting Chapter 8 and the Epilogue together at the same time, so please be sure you haven’t missed Chapter 8 before you start reading this Epilogue!

The air was cool at this hour of the morning. A little later, when they were about to roll out of bed, J.A.R.V.I.S. would turn up the heat so that by the time bare feet landed on the carpet, the room would be warm and welcoming.

But for now, it was the early hours of the morning, with the sun just barely creeping up over the horizon of shadowed skyscrapers. The air was cool against the tips of Tony’s ears, which made him better appreciate the warmth within the nest of blankets. It was why he preferred to set the temperature lower during the night.

Why they _both_ preferred it that way.

Tony’s eyes were slitted open, enjoying the view. He had woken up facing the windows with their magnificent sight of the sun rising over the city, but he had eventually wriggled enough so he could turn around. There was a much nicer view on this side, after all. It was unusual for him to be awake at this hour, but he had stirred from a strange dream involving spider-puppies — he would blame Peter for that — and found he couldn’t go back to sleep again. He decided to take the rare opportunity to feast his eyes on Steve’s face, to greedily take in those soft fair lashes and his slightly open mouth, to admire that plush lower lip that Tony so liked to nip. Steve’s straight nose and chiselled cheeks looked like they could be carved out of the finest ivory, framed by his tousled hair and the relaxed droop of his silvery-gold ears.

Usually, when they were both awake, Tony tried not to be caught staring at Steve, so he often feigned a lack of interest. It was a silly instinct, and it was difficult as well, because Steve was so wonderful to look at. Handsome, and kind, and dry-witted, and kind of judgemental, and generous, and righteous, and _Tony’s_. _Mine, mine, mine_ , Tony thought happily.

It was almost time for Steve’s internal alarm clock to go off and for him to head out for an early morning run. So Tony didn’t feel any compunctions about nuzzling into Steve’s bare chest, luxuriating in that warm bare skin against his own. It was toasty underneath their thick comforter, with their shared body warmth and entwined limbs. Tony was purring, purring, purring from deep within his chest as he rubbed a cheek against Steve’s collarbone, listening happily to the steady beat of his heart under Tony’s ear. Tony reached down and felt around Steve’s waist until he found that fluffy tail draped over a muscular thigh. He patted that tail, running his fingers through the plush fur possessively to ensure their scents were mixed. Then he pulled his own slim tail forward as well and twined both their tails together. He knew Steve would smile at that, always found it adorable when their tails inadvertently reached for each other. Tony liked to pretend it happened completely by accident in their sleep of course.

Snuggling his face into the place where Steve’s strong neck met broad shoulders, Tony breathed in and enjoyed their intertwined scents. And then, to be extra clear, he rubbed his cheek against Steve’s neck. _This part is mine, and this, and this, all of this is mine_.

“G’morning,” Steve murmured, voice still thick from sleep, as he was awoken by Tony’s enthusiastic scent marking.

“Mrr,” was all Tony said, too busy rubbing a cheek against Steve’s shoulder, curling possessive arms around his waist.

Steve ran a hand over Tony’s bare shoulder under the cosy blankets, and all of a sudden, he rolled so that Tony was squished under him. Tony let out a ‘mrp!’ of surprise and found himself enfolded in a large sleepy hug. This was not an unusual position for Tony to be in, since they got together six months ago. Given the slightest opportunity, Steve liked to wrap himself up around Tony and squish him or liked to be wrapped up in Tony and be squished. Either way was a delight.

“Steve?” Tony asked, his nose was sticking out beside Steve’s head, but he wasn’t able to see much more than blonde hair and one pale ear, blankets pulled almost completely over their heads.

Steve let out a little snore, falling back into sleep. That was unusual since Steve was generally a morning person, quick to pop out of bed bright eyed and bushy tailed, literally. Tony was the one who often tried to tempt Steve to stay in their cosy nest of blankets. But Steve had been away on a mission since before dawn yesterday, followed by a rather long and _energetic_ night, so that might explain his sleep-in.

Sighing, Tony tried a wriggle but that got him nowhere fast. In fact, he could have sworn Steve tightened his hold even further, even in his sleep.

Tony contemplated his position, and then went back to rubbing his cheek against Steve’s hair, even gnawing briefly on one floppy ear. Later, he would paw at Steve’s face until he woke up and gave Tony the attention he deserved. But for now, Tony was contented with this task. _Mine, mine, mine_ , Tony thought with unrestrained delight.

# # # # # #

Steve watched the movie, not really caring what was on the screen. He was deep in a haze of contentment, pleased to be surrounded by his pack, by his _family_ , and to feel the small warm furry body against his neck, draped over his shoulder. The steady rumble that vibrated against his neck flooded him with happiness. Steve lifted a hand and pressed it against Tony’s small form that was curled up on his shoulder. The feel of Tony’s purr under his hand lulled him into a blissful calmness. Tony butted his head against Steve’s palm, encouraging the soft patting.

By the time the movie was done, Steve wasn’t sure if he even knew what had happened on screen. The lights slowly came up again and the others in the room started stretching and shifting.

“That was very enjoyable,” Thor said. “I appreciate Earth’s entertainment about heroic warriors who battle impossible odds and never leave a comrade behind. The assistant especially seemed like a fine specimen of the human male form.”

“You know we just watched the Ghostbusters remake, right?” Clint asked doubtfully.

They were almost certainly being teased by Thor who affected an archaic way of talking when he was putting on his ignorant alien act. Steve always found how often people fell for Thor’s faked bewilderment at human norms amusing.

Thor pointed out, “I’m aware and I believe I’ve spoken accurately.”

Bruce got up from his armchair and offered, “Maybe we could watch the original version.”

“Ugh, please no,” Bucky said, having formed a lot of opinions after several movie marathons.

Tony finally stirred on his perch on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve had to fight the urge to coax him back into sleep, warm and trusting against Steve’s neck. But he couldn’t hog Tony all to himself. After a few minutes of stretching and soft meowing, Tony hopped down from his shoulder to his lap, pausing to rub a cheek against Steve’s side. Then, Tony turned around in a circle, turned around again like he was looking for something, and suddenly flopped onto his side in Steve’s lap. Steve held his breath, and Tony rolled onto his back. Oh, Steve was looking at that fluffy spotted belly, all that inviting fur which Steve knew from experience would be soft and silky, like touching a warm cloud.

“It’s a trap,” Natasha said as she stood up to join Bruce in the kitchen.

“Dude, you know it is,” Clint said. “Don’t let the cuteness lure you into the trap!”

Tony twisted his back and tilted his head at Steve, blinking slowly. He let out a quiet, quizzical, “Mrrp?”

“Oh, that’s just cheating,” Clint said with admiration.

It was beyond Steve’s ability to resist. He laid a hand on that exposed belly of fur, ready to spend three seconds luxuriating in the feeling before his hand was turned into Swiss cheese.

But then, Steve realized he was actually stroking Tony’s fur and thinking _soft,_ so soft, it was so lovely and amazing under his fingers. It was such a show of trust, a sign of affection… and…

Steve realized that his hand wasn’t being attacked.

Instead, his hand remained on the silky softness, unharmed. Tony met his eyes, and blinked very slowly.

Steve knew his cheeks and neck were turning red from the sudden flood of excitement and pure joy at this show of trust, his tail trying to wag from where it was pinned beneath him.

“Holy shit,” Clint uttered in awe.

“Wow, that’s…something,” Natasha said, sounding genuinely stunned out of her earlier cynical certainty.

Steve rubbed gently through the softest of fur on Tony’s vulnerable belly, and Tony let him. In fact, Tony leaned down and started licking Steve’s hand, grooming him.

“This is some cute shit,” Clint said, inching his phone out to record it.

All of a sudden, Tony was back in his human form, body resting half over Steve’s lap, with Steve’s hand giving him a belly rub. Tony twisted and flashed Clint his middle finger, looking very smug. Laughing, Steve bent down and gave Tony a kiss on his pointed furry ear.

With a shrug, Clint took the photo anyway, and captioned it “ _Iron Lap Cat,_ ” when he posted it on Instagram.

It went viral overnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, be sure you haven't missed Chapter 8 since it was posted with this Epilogue.
> 
> It's been a journey completing this fic as I went and loving the amazing feedback I got with every chapter. For those who have been tuning in weekly, thank you all so much for sticking with the story and for leaving such supportive and enthusiastic comments! For new readers, I hope you had fun with the fluff overload! >3<
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading and I hope you enjoyed the extremely sappy conclusion. :) If you have thoughts about other fluffy scenes from this 'verse that you want to see, let me know about them! I can't make promises since I've other fics I'm already working on too but I might try to write more in this 'verse. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this incredibly self-indulgent fic! :D Comments are much appreciated! 
> 
> My Tumblr post for the completed fic can be found [here](https://awesomelifechoices.tumblr.com/post/183518611823/fic-a-doggone-catastrophe).


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